


Autism is a World

by Lady10



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady10/pseuds/Lady10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mass murder at a Miami elementary school leaves only one witness and he's autistic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Autism Awareness Month begins on April 1. It's incredibly important to me. I have spent great deal of my professional life teaching young people with Autism. My best friend is autistic.
> 
> The young student I have written is based on one of my vey special young people. He speaks exactly like my "Johnny". There are no typos in his speech. My real life Johnny speaks just like this. He also speaks fluent Japanese.
> 
> Please enjoy and seek out the Autism Society of America and Autism Speaks. Wear Blue on April 2nd for World Autism Awareness Day. Read "The Curious Case of the Dog in the Nighttime".

 The child, Johnny, is based on someone I know who is autistic. If I can't “hear” my real life Johnny say the line, then this Johnny doesn't say it.

 

 

 

 

 

                                               **_Autism is a World_**

 

 

 

 

 

Eric Delko steeled himself as he pulled the Hummer up in front of  the school building. It was a neat three story structure in blonde brick with a well manicured front lawn surrounded by a black iron fence. Atop the flagpole fluttered the American flag. Nothing about this scene gave any indication as to what had transpired within the  building less than an hour prior. To any casual observer Thomas Jefferson Elementary snoozed in the late spring morning sun. Eric looked toward his partner.

 

“Ready to go?” he asked.

 

Calleigh Duquesne’s jaw clenched and a hard look entered her usually sparkling bright green eyes turning them to the color of lake ice. Her voice was its usual soft tone, but a hard core of anger lay beneath. “Some bastard just waltzed into an elementary school and opened fire in a kindergarten class full of children. I’m ready to go in, get the evidence and nail his punk ass. Is that enough of an affirmative for you, Delko?”

 

Eric raised his eyebrow at his partner’s colorful choice of language and the exclusive use of his surname. She was royally pissed and he knew exactly why this crime scene evoked such a response from her.  If anything pissed Calleigh off, it was innocent children being put in harm’s way. He opened his door. “Then let’s go.”

 

They crossed the empty street and entered the building through a long bank of clear glass doors, being met just inside by Detective Frank Tripp and a very distraught middle aged woman. She was tallking animatedly with him as they approached.

 

“Frank,” Calleigh greeted.

 

“Dr. Abigail Howard, this is CSI's Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne. Dr. Howard is the Principal here,” Frank introduced.

 

“Ma'am, we're here to process the crime scene. I know our Medical Examiner has already arrived,” Calleigh said in her most public friendly voice. “Could you please direct us to the classroom?”

 

“Room 115 is down the hallway, just past the Office,” Dr. Howard directed.

 

Calleigh hefted her kit a little higher. “Thank you.”

 

Together, she and Eric walked down the teal and tan tiled corridor, past the glass walled School Office, past the teachers' lounge, now buzzing with staff members giving their statements to the police, past both the boys' and girls' bathrooms. They gazed at the brightly colored bulletin boards proudly announcing awards that the school had won and displaying the childrens' own work. As they neared 115, they could hear Alexx's compassionate voice drift out to them.

 

Eric gestured a little “ladies first” and allowed Calleigh to precede him into the classroom. She only got four good sized steps in when she was finally able to look up from the floor and take in the scene. What she saw sickened her to her core. The victims had been a classroom full of small children, Kindergardeners, from what it said on the door, and their teacher. Bodies laid where they had fallen, bright blood pooling under them. Blood from arterial strikes had sprayed the walls and toys.

 

Calleigh's gaze fell on a teddy bear still clutched in the dead girl's arms. All of a sudden, Calleigh felt sick to her stomach. Perspiration broke out all over her and a bead ran cold down her back; she began to shake uncontrollably. There was no air in the room and she fought to breathe. She set, or rather dropped, her kit on the floor and took a shaky step back. She needed to get out of there.

 

At the sharp sound, Eric looked over at her. He didn't like the way she looked. The color had drained from her face and she was trembling so violently that he could see it from across the room. She had never once looked that way at a crime scene before. “Calleigh?”

 

“I'm sorry, Eric, I can't do this.” She took another step back and then bolted from the room. Calleigh tore down the corridor and out the front entrance, nearly knocking Tripp over in the process. He started after her, knowing something was seriously wrong when he caught Eric running out of the classroom in  pursuit.

 

Calleigh stopped at the far edge of the fence, gripped it so hard that her knuckles went white and promptly lost the entire contents of her stomach. She leaned heavily of the fence to keep her knees from buckling.

 

“Calleigh,' Eric said, suddenly beside her.

 

“I'm sorry; I don't even know what happened,” she said, beginning to shake again. “I've never done that before. I just suddenly couldn't be in there any longer. Sorry if I worried you.' She hung her head in embarrassment.

 

Eric regarded her for a moment. He reached out and gently stroked her hair. “Don't worry about me. I can call Wolfe if you want to sit this one out.”

 

Her head snapped up and she forced herself to stop shaking. “No. That is a crime scene and I am a CSI. I've never shirked my duties before and I'm not about to start now. Those families deserve answers and I'm going to do my best to give them some. I just need to suck it up and process the scene.”

 

You sure?” Eric asked, unconvinced. He had known Calleigh a long time and this behavior was something new. Something was clearly wrong but she was being too stubborn and strong to confess to him what it was.

 

“I'll deal with it later.” She straightened up and moved away from him.

 

They walked back into the building and were about to head back into the classroom when Tripp stopped them.

 

“There's a development,” he said. “It seems we got us a witness.”

 

“I thought that all of the teachers and children were in the classrooms at the time,” Calleigh said, her tone completely level and professional.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked her.

 

“I'm fine. Who's the witness?”

 

“He's a ten year old boy. He was coming out of the bathroom at the time and saw the whole thing,” Frank said.

 

Eric brightened. “Great. We need to question him as soon as his parents arrive.”

 

“Well, that might be a bit of a problem. His dad is out of the country on business and his mom is about 45 minutes away,” Frank drawled in his broad Texas accent. “There's something else; the kid is autistic and has issues communicating clearly.”

 

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. “Autistic?”

 

“Yeah. Apparently he's really bright despite the autism,” Frank explained.

 

“Well that's something, at least,” Eric said. “Do either of you know anything about autism?”

 

“Sorry, 'Rainman' is it for me,” Frank admitted sheepishly, shrugging his block-like shoulders.

 

“I think I might know a little. They just had something on one of the news shows about it last week. Apparently April is Autism Awareness Month.” She closed her eyes, thinking back. “It's a neuorlogical disorder that has varying degrees from profound to nearly untraceable. It's a popular buzz word diagnosis when nothing else seems to fit. Uhm....I'm out.”

 

“Well that's more than I knew two minutes ago,” Eric stated. “Let's meet this boy.”

 

Frank lead them to the School Office where a petite red-head, glasses hiding her bright green eyes, was sitting with a very agitated little boy. She was dressed in a more or less professional manner in black jeans and a red polo. The child was wandering around the lobby in a very restless manner, touching things and then putting them down. In his left hand he carried a blue magic marker.

 

Frank stopped in front of the woman, who stood. “Ms. Carson, these are CSI's Calleigh Duquesne and Eric Delko from the Crime Lab.”

 

She extended her hand. “I'm Elizabeth Carson. I'm Johnny's one-on-one.”

 

Shaking hands with her, Eric asked, “One-on-one?”

 

“One on one aide. I'm sort of part behavioral psychologist, teacher and therapist, and in school mom as well as his personal assistant and Jiminy Cricket,” Elizabeth said cheerfully.

 

“You're his conscience,” Calleigh said.

 

“Very good. You get a gold star,” Elizabeth replied with a grin. She quickly sobered. “I'm sorry, but I can't let you interview him until his mother arrives.”

 

“We understand,” Eric said, watching the child with interest. “Detective Tripp says that Johnny is autistic.”

 

“Yes, he is,” Elizabeth replied.

 

Eric pushed it further. “And that he has communication issues.”

 

“Don't let Johnny's lack of verbal prowess fool you. He's actually gifted,” his aide said proudly.

 

“Autistic and gifted,' Calleigh mused, watching the child move restlessly around the office. He was a handsome child, in her opinion. Curly, close cropped black hair, almost black almond shaped eyes and a full-lipped mouth that parted to show off brilliant white teeth.

 

Elizabeth held out her hand to him. “Johnny, come here, please.”  The child stopped wandering and went to his aide. He held her hand and leaned into her for comfort. “Johnny, this is Detective Delko and Detective Duquesne of the police department. They're the good guys. Can you say hi?”

 

“Hi,” he said gruffly. He pointed to Calleigh's firearm. “Gun.”

 

Calleigh's eyes flicked to his aide, who nodded encouragement. “That's right. But I only use it on the bad guys.”

 

After gazing at it for a short while, he apparently lost all interest in them and looked away, bouncing on his toes.

 

“Ms. Carson,” Eric began, “neither of us has had any experience with mentally disabled children.”

 

Elizabeth's green eyes flashed. “Johnny is not mentally disabled in any way, Detective. He's more intelligent than a good deal of adults I know. You've been told he's gifted. Don't underestimate him.”

 

“My apologies,” Eric said quickly. “What I tried to say is that his disability is outside our realm of knowledge.”

 

That seemed to content the petite educator. “Fine, that's why I'm here. I'll help you in any way I can.”

 

The boy had ceased to bounce on his toes and had wandered behind Calleigh. He reached out and touched her long blonde hair.

 

Calleigh remained completely still. “Uhm.”

 

“Johnny, please be polite. You need to ask before you touch. You know that,” Elizabeth scolded gently.

 

“Can I touch pretty hair?” he asked politely.

 

“That's up to Detective Duquesne,” Elizabeth said. She looked at Calleigh. “He's really a very gentle child and very curious about the world around him. He learns fully through all his senses and his sense of touched is highly developed.”

 

“He's a tactile learner?” Calleigh asked. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the boy. “It's okay.” The gentle hands returned to her hair. “I have to admit, this is a real learning experience.”

 

Elizabeth smiled at her. “I can see that it is. Johnny is a nice first experience.”

 

Eric regarded Elizabeth for a moment. “You care about him a lot, don't you?”

 

“I do. He's well worth getting to know.”

 

“Ms. Carson, will you be available once his mother gets here?” Calleigh asked.

 

“I'll be here. I'm sure you have work to do. Johnny and I won't keep you,” she replied.

 

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Carson,” Eric said. “Bye, Johnny.”

 

Johnny seemingly ignored Eric as he relinquished a handful of Calleigh's hair. “Bye, Duquesne.”

 

“Bye, Johnny,” Calleigh fought not to smile. “I'm sorry, Eric, but you seem to be chopped liver.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They exited the Office and returned to Room 115. Calleigh hesitated for a brief second.

 

“You okay?” Eric asked, becoming concerned again.

 

She looked back at Johnny in the Office lobby and squared her shoulders. “More determined than ever, Eric,” she replied and then strode into the room. She crouched down by her kit and snapped her gloves on.

 

Eric followed. “What do you have for us, Alexx?”

 

The M.E. looked up from the five year old she was processing, her eyes haunted by so many dead so young. “One very concerned friend. Calleigh, I've never seen you react like that at a crime scene. Are you okay, honey?”

 

“A momentary lapse. It won't happen again.. I'm over it,” she said briskly, rising and beginning to process the nearest point of trauma.

 

Alexx lowered her voice. “Is she really alright, Eric? She ran from here like a spooked rabbit.”

 

Eric squatted down next to her and lowered his voice as well. “Probably not, Alexx, but she'll deal with it in her own way. She always does.”

 

Calleigh swabbed at the blood and willed her hand not to shake. She swallowed hard and concentrated on the mechanics of her job. It was hard going at first since the crime scene had already started to emanate it's own unique smell, but she shut down that part of herself and continued the task at hand. She dug a bullet out of the concrete wall and dropped it into the evidence bag. The talk of the police and other CSI's drifted off into the background so she was slightly startled when Eric tapped her shoulder.

 

“Johnny's mother is here. We'd better both go.”

 

“I'll bring my kit. Just let me get this little rascal out of here,” she said, tugging on an inbedded bullet with a pair of tweezers. She wiggled it a little more and it popped free. She dropped it in her evidence bag, grabbed her kit and followed Eric back to the Office.

 

They walked into the Office lobby and saw a tall, slender Asian woman speaking animatedly with Ms. Carson. Johnny was holding the woman's hand.

 

Elizabeth looked over at them. “Detectives Delko and Duquesne, this is Yukari Sato, Johnny's mother.”

 

“Ma'am, your son is the only witness to the crime that was committed here this morning. It would be extremely helpful if we could interview him,” Calleigh said, shaking the woman's hand.

 

“I don't know if my son can help you much,” Ms. Sato said. “Sometimes he's just not all that observant and he has limited language.”

 

“We need to try, Ms. Sato,” Calleigh said in her soft Southern voice. “Anything that he can tell us can be important in catching the killer.”

 

“Where can we conduct the interview?” Eric asked.

 

“He's most comfortable in his classroom, but that's down there,” Elizabeth said, indicating a classroom past the crime scene.

 

Calleigh glanced at Eric, who nodded. “We can get him past the crime scene and help shield him from view.”

 

Ms. Sato held onto her son's hand as they all carefully passed the crime scene and entered a largish classroom with colorful posters on the walls. The desks were in a horseshoe on one side of the room. Under the windows sat a short bank of computers, each already on and ready for work. At the far end of the room sat a low, round table in a cheerful yellow. They headed toward it and sat down.

 

“Johnny, the detectives are going to ask you some questions about what you saw outside Room 115 this morning. You need to listen and focus,” Ms. Carson said. “Can you do that?”

 

Johnny got up from where he was sitting and sat down in the empty chair between his mother and Calleigh. “Yes.” His hand strayed close to Calleigh's hair and stopped in mid-air. “Can I touch Duquesne hair?” he asked politely.

 

“Okay, but you still need to listen and focus and answer the questions,” Elizabeth said after getting a nod from Calleigh. “Sometimes he needs a tactile stimulus to help him focus his thoughts. During tests he usually holds my hand or rubs my arm.”

 

“That's fine,” Calleigh said as Johnny stroked and petted her hair. “Whatever works. The information he may have is too important for me to mind a tangle or two.”

 

“You're very kind,” said Ms. Sato.

 

“I was a bit of an unusual child, myself,” Calleigh replied. “Sometimes showing a little understanding at the right moment helps.”

 

Eric eyed Calleigh cautiously. The crime scene must have rattled her far worse than she was letting on. Calleigh rarely talked about her childhood to anyone she knew well, let alone a complete stranger.

 

“Alright, Johnny, what did you see this morning?” Eric asked.

 

“Spongebob!” Johnny exclaimed. “I'm sorry.”

 

Eric let out a sigh of frustration.

 

“He's not being difficult, Detective Delko. He just needs the right kinds of questions in the right increments,” Elizabeth explained. “Johnny, I'm sure you did see Spongebob this morning, but we need to hear about what you saw after you came out of the boys' bathroom this morning.”

 

“115.”

 

“That's right. What did you see outside of 115?” she asked, demonstrating the kind of questions her student needed.

 

“Bad man. Shoot gun. He push me and I almost fall,” Johnny said. He grabbed a double handful of Calleigh's hair and rubbed it on his face. It seemed to have a calming effect on him.

 

Eric could relate. The smell of Calleigh's hair did something to him, too. She also seemed to be weathering being manhandled by a ten year old boy quite well.“That's great, Johnny. Did the bad man wear a mask?”

 

“Yes. Black mask. Cover whole face.”

 

“Johnny, since this bad man pushed you, it means he touched you. We need to catch this bad man,” Eric said. “Part of catching this bad man is called “getting trace”. See when bad people do things, they leave a part of themselves behind. Since he pushed you, he might have left something behind on your clothes. What I need to do is take this tape and stick it to your shirt and see if we can find anything he might have left behind.” Eric approached Johnny with the tape lift.

 

“NO!” Johnny aid forcefully. “Duquesne.”

 

“You want me to get trace from you?” Calleigh asked. Kids were usually Horatio's department and if Horatio wasn't around, Eric usually was the kid magnet.

 

“Yes,” he said, presenting his chest to her.

 

Snapping on gloves, she took the tap from Eric. “This won't hurt at all. I'm going to stick this tape to your shirt and then pull it off. It'll take the little things that are stuck to your shirt with it. Is that okay?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Calleigh gently placed the tape onto his shirt, rubbed it flat and pulled it away. She repeated the process with a couple of more pieces. “Thank you. This really might help.”

 

“Johnny, did the bad man say anything?” Eric asked.

 

“Yes. Bad words. Mommy say no say bad words,” Johnny aid solemnly.

 

“I need you to tell me what he said. You won't get into trouble,” Eric promised.

 

Johnny began to play with Calleigh's hair again. “He say 'bitch' and shoot gun. He shoot more and little kids cry. Then he run and push me.”

 

“Johnny, you were a big help,” Calleigh said. She rose from her seat. “Thank you for your co-operation. We'll be in touch.”

 

“Could you help us get past the room again?” Ms. Sato asked.

 

“Of course,” Eric replied.

 

As they were about to exit the classroom, Johnny grabbed Calleigh's hand. “Can I hold my hand?”

 

A smile played across Calleigh's lips. “Sure you can.”

 

 

 

 

  


 

 

  


  


 

 

 

 

   


 

 

 

  


 

 

  


  


 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**Autism is a World** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ryan entered the ballistics lab, evidence envelope in hand. “Hey, Calleigh.”

 

She barely looked away from her scope. On the table in front of her were numerous bullets and casings all lined up in neat rows of ten each. “Hey Ryan. Got anything for me?”

 

“Yep,” he handed her the envelope as she looked over at him. “Fresh from Alexx. It's from the teacher.”

 

Calleigh took it with a slight wince as she said the name. “Yvette Ramirez.”

 

Ryan eyed her carefully, gaging her mood. The last thing he wanted to do was trigger the famous but seldom seen Duquesne temper and be in the firing line. “I heard about what happened at the scene today.”

 

“Oh, what did you hear?” she asked disinterestedly, peering back into her scope.

 

Ryan took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “About what happened with you. I don't want to pry, but you're my co-worker, teammate and friend. I'm just concerned. Are you okay?”

 

She leveled her stormy green eyes on him. “Where'd you hear it? Who opened up their big mouth?”

 

Ryan threw up his hands defensively, even though he knew Calleigh wouldn't strike him. “Hey, no, it wasn't like that at all. I overheard two of the officers downstairs. They actually sounded worried. You have a reputation for being unflappable. You flapped and it freaked them out. So, hearing that, I went to Alexx since she was there. She gave me the run down and is still very concerned and now so am I. So I'm asking again. Are you okay?”

 

She dropped her gaze, uncomfortable with the concern in his eyes. “It's okay. I'm fine. I'll deal with it later and no, I don't want to talk about it.” She started to turn back to her scope to end the conversation with attention to work.

 

Ryan gently grabbed her arm. “Listen, when I froze, you were the only one that didn't kid me about it. You understood and made me feel better. You supported me and now it's my turn. You reacted badly at a crime scene. I want to understand and support you. That's what teammates do. That's what friends do, Calleigh.”

 

Calleigh sat quietly for a moment. “I know and I thank you for that, Ryan. I really do, but I don't want to discuss it. Maybe I'm just losing my edge, being in the Lab so much instead of on the scene.”

 

No, I don't think so. I saw the photos you and Eric shot at the crime scene today. All those little kids and all that blood. It was everywhere. You'd have to have no heart at all not to be disturbed by it in some way,” Ryan said gently.

 

“But I behaved in a very unprofessional manner, Ryan. That's what bothers me the most.”

 

“I know this is going to sound like a dumb question, but have you ever processed a child homicide before?” Ryan asked.

 

“Yeah, sure. He was a pedophile/serial killer that kidnapped then killed a little six year old girl in a supposedly safe place. It was at Zany Town. He took her into the handicapped bathroom, cut her hair and was in the process of redressing her as a boy when she died. Her name was Ruthie Creighton,” Calleigh recounted. “It was disturbing in it's own way, but it didn't actually bother me much beyond what it was: a murder.”

 

“But-”

 

“Listen, Ryan, I know you're trying to help and I appreciate it, but I have enough bullets and casing from this morning to keep me busy until tomorrow morning. I have to get back to work.”

 

 

 

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

 

 

 

Rick Stetler stood nose to nose with Horatio. “I need to talk to Duquesne.”

 

“Now why would that be?”

 

“Come off it, Horatio. You know how she behaved at the crime scene this morning,” Stetler said.

 

“I do,” Horatio replied in a very even tone, fiddling with his sunglasses. “She behaved like a CSI that's fighting a case of stomach flu.”

 

“She hasn't taken any sick days.”

 

Horatio cocked a mirthless smile. “She never has. She just medicates and comes in. She's very dedicated to her work. Leave her alone and let her do just that, okay, Rick.”

 

“Calleigh, I need to see you in my office now, please,” Horatio said politely as he stuck his head into Ballistics.

 

“Sure thing, Horatio,” she chirruped as she capped her pen. She stood up, cracking her back, realizing that she'd been hunched over her scope for hours. She followed him out. “What's up?”

 

“I just got a visit from Stetler,” he said as they entered his office. He closed the door. “IAB wants an explanation-”

 

“Of my behavior at the crime scene today,” she finished for him. She sighed, leaning against his desk, head hanging. “I don't have one.”

 

“I do. Listen very carefully. I want to know how your stomach flu is,” he said very pointedly.

 

Calleigh stayed silent for a moment. She'd witnessed Horatio running interference with IAB for team members before. As a senior CSI, she had her fair share of interference running, herself. Horatio had never had to do so for her before. “I feel better, but it's always worse in the mornings.”

 

“Good, that's what I told him.”

 

“Horatio-”

 

“No, you're the best at what you do and I need you to keep doing it, alright?”

 

She smiled at him. “Alright. Thanks, Horatio.”

 

 

 

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECEC

 

 

 

Natalia leaned her long frame in the doorway of the ballistics lab. “Hey, Calleigh, how's the stomach flu?”

 

Calleigh pushed herself away from her scope and rubbed her tired eyes. _Word travels_ _fast_. “I try not to think about it.” She blinked a couple of times. “Now why do I have a feeling that you don't believe me?”

 

Natalia walked in, closing the door behind her. It was time for a little girl talk. “Because I know how much Horatio cares about everyone on the team and how much he hates Stetler and IAB. So what really happened?”

 

“I just don't know, Nat. I walked in and it just hit me in the stomach. Child homicide is something that I've already dealt with. First a father slaughtered his entire family, except for his little girl and then Ruthie Creighton was killed by a pedophile/serial killer. I just don't have an explanation to give you,” Calleigh said, feeling the strong bond that the two women managed to build since the Lab had been investigated by the Feds.

 

“I heard there was a lot of red. I haven't brought myself to look at the photos yet,” Natalia said softly.

 

“There was. Everywhere, the walls, floor, toys, desks, chairs, windows, everywhere,”  She felt her throat constrict as she said the last word, remembering that teddy bear.

 

Natalia heard the hitch in her friend's voice. She'd already known Calleigh long enough to know when to let something lie. Sensing that they were rapidly heading into a place that Calleigh was not prepared to go or deal with,, she let the matter drop. “Hey, I heard you had a new boyfriend.”

 

“Boyfriend? I'm not seeing anyone right now,” she said, relieved at the change of subject. “Where'd you hear that?”

 

“Oh around,” Natalia said vaguely. “I heard that he's kind of unusual, too.”

 

“Oh?” Calleigh said casually, writing numbers down.

 

“Yeah, like he's about 4'10” and way too young for you,” Natalia smiled playfully at her.

 

“Oh, you mean Johnny! He's our only eyewitness. Apparently he took a shine to me, although I can't imagine why. I'm never the kid magnet,” Calleigh explained.

 

“I'm not sure, but I heard that he's retarded or something.”

 

“Thank you so much for stroking my ego, Natalia,” Calleigh said sarcastically. “He's autistic, not retarded; there's a difference and when I get five spare minutes I'm going to research the hell out of the subject because I'm the only one that Johnny seems to respond to.”

 

Natalia picked up the file folder that Calleigh just finished. “Why don't I take this to Horatio for you?”

 

“Why? I can find his office.”

 

“Stetler is still lurking around so I'll take Horatio your preliminary report and you stay here and look busy,” Natalia said logically.

 

“ _LOOK_ busy? I _**AM**_ busy! Do you see the number of bullets and casings I still have to process” Calleigh exclaimed, touched, nonetheless, by Natalia's protectiveness.

 

Natalia laughed. “After I take this to Horatio, do you want me to come back here and give you a hand? It would really help me prep for my proficiencies.”

 

“Normally I wouldn't dream of asking, but.....”

 

 

 

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

 

 

 

Horatio entered the Trace Lab. “Mr. Wolfe, did you get anything form the witness's clothing?” he asked.

 

“Actually, yeah, I did. There's chalk residue, which is the same kind that is used in schools, so I've ruled that out. But what's really interesting is this: I've found traces of flower pollen. There are two distinct and separate kinds. They both appear to be from northern varieties of plant, which doesn't make any sense. How would you get a northern variety of plant to grow in south Florida?” Ryan rattled quickly, his excitement of the challenge making him rush his speech.

 

Horatio smiled slightly at the young CSI. “I don't know, Mr. Wolfe. That is for you to find out.”

 

“I have some ideas.”

 

“Continue, please,” he encouraged.

 

Ryan pulled up a botanical database. “First, I want to track down and isolate the kind of pollen. That will narrow the search window dramatically. Once that happens, it will only be a matter of time before we have our answer.”

 

“Good start, but, unfortunately, time is not a luxury we can afford.” He patted the young man on the shoulder, happy to finally have him back on the team.  “Keep at it and good work.” Horatio's cell rang. “Caine.”

 

There was a short exchange and Horatio wrote down a number. “Thank you, Dr. Howard, I'll pass that along.” He hung up.

 

“Anything good?” Ryan asked, scanning the database for pollen matches.

 

“More information, Mr. Wolfe,” Horatio said cryptically. “Keep me posted.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, April 2, is World Autism Awareness Day. Wear blue in support today. Go to Autism Speaks.org or any other Autism Awareness website. Donate. It'll help individuals and their families deal with autism in the most productive way possible. Research, diagnosis and therapies/coping skills can create a world of difference.
> 
> And, above all. thank you for reading!

_**Autism is a World** _

 

 

 

 

 

“So, I'm supposed to call this woman and get a crash course in autism?” Calleigh asked incredulously, sitting down at a table in the break room.

 

Horatio leaned against the counter and took a bite of his apple. “That's what Doctor Howard said.”

 

Calleigh shook her head, hand diving into her lunch sack. “Maybe she knows something that I don't.”

 

“Think about it for a minute, Calleigh. You're the only one that Johnny has responded to. He ignores Eric completely. If we need to question him again, you're going to need to be the one to do it. He's very much aware of you,” Horatio explained.

 

“Well, thinking of it that way, I guess it's only logical. I never thought I'd be going back to school for something like this. What about the casings and bullets? There's a lot that I haven't gotten to yet. The lab will be backed up if I do this with Stewart out,” Calleigh said, taking a bit of her sandwich.

 

“I'm pulling Cavanaugh off Nights to cover you.”

 

She didn't look too impressed. “Well, he's not the most thorough, but he'll have to do, I guess.”

 

Horatio handed her the piece of paper with the phone number written on it. “Give her a call now, while you have time.”

 

 

 

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A small, plump, auburn-haired woman approached the CSI reception desk. She was loaded down with a briefcase in one hand and four large three ring binders precariously balanced in the other. She dropped them on the desk with a loud thump.

 

Claudia regarded her with calm brown eyes. “May I help you?”

 

The woman extended a plump hand. “I'm Robyn Mix from the University of Miami. I'm supposed to meet with a, uhm....” She handed Claudia the piece of paper with a name on it. “I don't think that I can actually pronounce that. My assistant wrote it down while I was at lunch.”

 

Claudia took the piece of paper and read the name to herself and offered and understanding smile. “CSI Calleigh Duquesne. It took me a while, too. Let me ring Firearms for you.'

 

Robyn's eyes widened. “Firearms? As in guns?”

 

 

 

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Robyn did not imagine the CSI to look the way she did. First off, she was much younger than Robyn had originally figured; then there was the long, pale blonde hair, the expressive green eyes and the brilliant smile-she looked like she should have been gracing the cover of some fashion magazine, or perhaps walking the catwalk instead of earning her living by knowing all there was to know about guns. The dumb blonde stereotype was shattered the minute Calleigh began speaking and over the next four hours Robyn discovered CSI Duquesne to be highly intelligent and very apt at grasping behavioral psychology.

 

They were just beginning hour number five when a tall, handsome Hispanic man leaned in the doorway. He smiled fondly at the blonde. “Hey, Cal, I hate to bother you, but I need that nine test fired and checked for matching striations and I can't wait for Cavanaugh to do it tomorrow. The D.A. is breathing down my neck.”

 

She looked up from her notebook, returning the fond smile. “Is that the road rage from Route 57?”

 

“Yeah, I owe you one.”

 

She stood up. “Excuse me; I really need to do this. Eric, I'll fire but you collect and do all the lab and paperwork, okay?”

 

“It's a deal, Cal. You're the best.” He handed her the firearm looking down at Robyn. “Care to come and watch?”

 

“Sure, why not?” She rose from her seat and followed him to the doorway of the firing range.

 

He gestured a “stay here”. “Okay, Calleigh, ready when you are.”

 

Calleigh put on her ear protectors and glasses, then loaded the clip. She took a stable stance and fired twice. “Do you need more or is that going to be good?”

 

“It's perfect. Thanks. I'll even pull them out for you,” Eric said, glancing down at their guest. “Impressive, isn't it?”

 

“You're playing retriever was part of the bargain, diverman,” Calleigh quipped, playfully patting him on the chest, handing him the gun and clip. “It's all yours, Eric. I've got to get back to work.”

 

“Are you learning anything good?”

 

“Plenty. I'll tell you all about it over dinner tonight at Pat's. Grab Ryan and Horatio. We all haven't eaten out together in a long time.”

 

 

 

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When Eric and Ryan walked up to their usual table at Pat's, they found Calleigh had beaten them there and was completely engrossed in taking notes from four open binders in front of her. A behavioral psychology textbook was also open and she scanned the page for the information she wanted. The two men exchanged looks.

 

“Hey, didn't you hear the dismissal bell? School's out,” Eric said, plopping down in the chair next to her.

 

“Watch out!” Calleigh cried, grabbing a slipping binder.

 

Ryan sat down as well. “What is all this stuff?” he asked.

 

“Autism curricula from behavior psych 101 plus post graduate work. Autism diagnostic criteria, characteristics, levels of severity...you name it.” Calleigh shoved the binders at her friends. “Take a look.. You know, I thought Physics was a challenge, but behavioral psychology is no picnic, either.”

 

“What, a little psych class got you spinning?” Ryan teased, pulling a binder closer and perusing it's contents. “Wow! I didn't know this. It says here, 'According to the CDC, 1 out of every 150 children born every day will be diagnosed with some form of autism by the time they reach eight years old'. That's staggering.”

 

“It is, isn't it?” Calleigh agreed. “I've just spent five hours cramming all of this into my head and I know I've only scratched the surface. Call me a total geek; but I'm actually looking forward to learning more tomorrow.” She ran her hands through her hair.

 

“Brain fatigue, Calleigh?” Horatio asked, joining them. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

 

Calleigh rolled her head, cracking her neck. She let out a little squeak of surprise before Eric reached over and slid his hand under her heavy curtain of hair, already seeking the sore spot. It wasn't the first time he'd done that and it wouldn't be the last. “You know, it is. I've forgotten how exhausting it is to try and cram information into your head and attempt to get it to stick. Robyn crammed undergrad classes full of behavioral psychology into my head, plus specified grad work in autism and special education. She says I have a phenomenal grasp of it, I just don't know. I'm lucky if I remember my own name right now. I feel like I've run a mental marathon.”

 

“You just did, from the sound of it,” Eric said, his already complete respect for her becoming something more in his eyes.

 

Ignoring the familiar and personal interplay between his two senior CSI's, Horatio pulled a binder over and began flipping through it. “This is some heady stuff, ma'am. Have you ever thought about getting a secondary degree in behavioral psychology? It would be a shame to let all this work go to waste.”

 

“Right, I'll get on with that right after I'm done with the paper on the new armor piercing hollow point bullets and the lecture series for the Police Academy,” Calleigh said sarcastically. They were off the clock and she didn't need to check her attitude at the door.

 

Horatio chuckled, enjoying her sometimes caustic wit. “You have a point.”

 

“So do you. Let me get past this case and the other things and I'll let you know if I'm ready to tackle a secondary degree. But for now, there's more post grad work for tomorrow,” Calleigh said, letting out a moan when Eric found the exact spot that was causing her head to begin to hurt. Small lights danced before her eyes as he momentarily pressed too hard before his sensitive fingers found a gentler touch.

 

“You know, it occurs to me that with you learning all of this makes you more valuable to the Lab and the County as well,” Horatio said.

 

“You're kidding, right? I don't think I'm going to be able to use this all that much. It takes years of training to become a profiler. A little behavior psych isn't going to cut it in the real world,” Calleigh said, letting out a yawn and taking a small sip of her beer as her food arrived.

 

He smiled at her, shaking his head at her genuine humility. She was one of the most intelligent people he knew. “No, I'm serious. It'll help in the future.”

 

Okay,” she relented, sighing and closing her eyes. “God, I'm tired. First the scene and now all this mental Olympics. You know, I'm just about tired enough to call it a night and walk back across the street and sleep in the break room again; or maybe my office. I really don't trust myself to drive, especially after a beer.”

 

“You mean less than half a beer. Let me drive you home,” Ryan offered. “It's no bother and you know it's pretty much right on my way home. What's an extra ten minutes between friends? Besides, I don't want you sleeping in your office or the break room because tomorrow you'll be all rumpled and crabby. You being rumpled is kind of cute, but I don't like Crabby Calleigh.”

 

“You know, normally I'd refuse entirely, but tonight....Thank you, Ryan.”

 

 

 

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Ryan glanced over at his passenger. Calleigh had fallen asleep almost before he'd pulled away from the curb. For most of the ride she seemed to sleep peacefully, but now her breathing had become uneven, her head was rolling from side to side and she was definitely dreaming.  When she began to make small sounds of distress, Ryan pulled over and gently shook her awake.

 

“Hey, Calleigh, wake up,” he said softly, giving her shoulder a firm but gentle shake.

 

She startled awake with a yelp and immediately looked embarrassed.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, already knowing her usual answer.

 

“I'm fine,” she said shakily. She was anything but. _The screams, the blood, the bear...._

 

He reached out a gentle hand and placed it lightly on her shoulder. “I'm not convinced; try again. Are you okay?”

 

She closed her eyes, still too shaken by her nightmare to fight with him. “Just drive, okay, Ryan.”

 

He watched her struggle for composure for a moment; a rare sight in one so controlled as was Calleigh Duquesne. “Okay.”

 

He pulled away from the curb and drove on, every now and then stealing glances at her. She was fighting something; he could see that much. But, exactly what, he didn't know. Within minutes, he pulled to a stop in front of her relatively modest home. Modest for Bal Harbor, that is. It was a ranch style structure with only one floor, it's rooms spread across a fairly large piece of land. Her front lawn was neatly manicured and a bed of hot weather wildflowers splashed color under her front windows. “Are you sure you're alright by yourself tonight, Calleigh? I don't mind camping out on the couch if you want me to.”

 

Calleigh offered him a wan smile. “That's sweet, Ryan, but no. Thanks for the ride.”

 

“What time should I pick you up in the morning?” He asked.

 

“6:00 should be good. I'll make you breakfast if you show up then. We don't have to start until 7. And I want a chance to go over things with Cavanaugh before he takes over my spot on the day shift. That's not too early for you, is it?” Calleigh asked.

 

Ryan shook his head. “I'm usually up at 5 anyway.” He gave her a long, hard look. She still didn't seem right to him. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

 

Calleigh returned his gaze with equal intensity. “Yeah, I'm fine. Look, Ryan, in our job we see all manner of gruesome and disturbing things every day. You would have to be someone like Jeffrey Dahmer to not have a bad dream or two every now and then.” She offered him another smile, this time one far more genuine. “Thanks again, though. I'll see you in the morning. Any requests on breakfast?” With that she began to gather all her research materials and get out of the car.

 

“Yeah, nothing with grits in it, around it or near it. I still don't understand how you can eat that stuff,” Ryan said.

 

“I've already told you how. So it's anything, besides grits, that I feel like making?” Calleigh asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well alright then. Prepare to be surprised.” With that, she turned and walked into the house.

 

For safety's sake, Ryan watched as she walked up her front walk, got out her keys, opened her door and went inside. He waited until she turned on a light before driving himself home.

 

 

 

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Ryan rang the doorbell again. “Hey, Calleigh, open up,” he called. He was getting worried since she had told him to pick her up at 6 and it was exactly 5:50. He rang the bell again.

 

The door jerked open to reveal a very damp bath robed Calleigh. She stood in the doorway looking incredulous. “You are so completely beyond punctual. I was still in the shower.”

 

Ryan grinned sheepishly. “I'm really sorry, but for me ten minutes early is on time.”

 

“C'mon in and make yourself at home. As soon as I get dressed I'll make us breakfast,” she said, ushering him inside and shutting the door.

 

Ryan watched as she disappeared down the hallway and then turned his attention to the living room. Her décor showed a marked preference for plantation style furniture with artistic spikes of bright Miami colors to contrast with all the dark, glowing wood. The autism binders sat on the coffee table. Ryan wandered to her bookshelf and perused the titles. Along with the expected texts on firearms, he found books on medieval and renaissance weaponry, concentrating mostly on bows and early firearms, a couple of biographies and a couple of cookbooks on the bottom shelf.

 

“Alright, you're a CSI; what have you figured out about me?” Calleigh asked, now dressed in a navy sweater and black pants. She handed him a cup of coffee.

 

“Well, you have good taste in furniture and a sharp sense of color and contrast and blend,” Ryan began, excited about learning more about his usually intensely private colleague. “You have a highly developed interest in Medieval and Renaissance weaponry, centering mostly on bows and early handguns. I wouldn't be surprised if you own a bow or two. How am I doing so far?”

 

“Calleigh nodded her encouragement. “Very good, actually. Now you know a hobby of mine.”

 

“But I'm not finished. You do embroidery.” He pointed to a small tapestry bag with a wooden hoop sticking out of it.

 

“Good work!” she praised. “It's actually cross stitch. My Gran taught me as a kid and it helps me unwind.” Seeing the grand amusement on his face, she asked, “What? I can do a girly thing or two, you know.”

 

“Okay, I won't tease you,” Ryan said. “Are you ready to go?”

 

“Didn't I promise you breakfast?” she asked, already moving off toward the kitchen. “It won't take long. How does a nice Southern breakfast sound to you?”

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Mysterious.”

 

Half an hour later, Ryan had to admit that he had just eaten one of the best breakfasts he'd had in a long while. Coupling that with the new knowledge about his teammate; that she could cook like a gourmet and that she actually did a few girly things like embroidery, made him just appreciate her a little more.

 

Ryan scooped up her binders just as she came out of the kitchen. “Can I carry your books to school, Ms. Duquesne?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  
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	4. Chapter 4

_**Autism is a World** _

 

 

 

Horatio walked into the ballistics lab, expecting to see Calleigh' blonde head bent studiously over her notes. What he found instead were the requisite books and notebooks, all open, the notebooks full of Calleigh's handwriting, Robyn's things and the door open to the firing range.

 

Calleigh's soft Southern voice floated out to him. “So you hold your arms extended fully, strong but not locked, take a stable stance, feet shoulder width apart, aim your weapon at your target, take a deep breath and as you exhale, gently but firmly squeeze the trigger. Always remember to prepare for the recoil.” There was a sharp sound of a weapons discharge. “Alright, now you try it.”

 

Horatio grinned at her from the open doorway. “Recess, Calleigh?”

 

“Oh, hey, Horatio; we were just taking a break.” She smiled brightly at him. “Robyn saw me fire off a couple of rounds for Eric yesterday and asked for a lesson.”

 

“You don't need to explain anything,” Horatio replied.

 

With a smile, she turned back to her student. “Go ahead, Robyn. Stand, aim, breathe, exhale, squeeze and prepare for the recoil.”

 

Robyn did as she was instructed and fired off several rounds.

 

“Nice job, considering you've never picked up a firearm before today. Let's reel it in and see how you did,” Calleigh praised, pushing the button on the side of the partition and the target zoomed in to them. She took it off the line. “Not bad. Here's your first trophy.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Calleigh turned back to Horatio. “So what did you need?”

 

“I thought I'd let you know that Mr. Wolfe isolated the pollen found on our witness' clothing. It turns out that we have pollen from two different kinds of flowering plants. Lavandula Augustafolia and Syringia Vulgaris.”

 

Calleigh closed her eyes and struggled to remember her seldom used botany classes. “I think one of them is lavender and the other.....I can't remember. Sorry.”

 

“Very good, Calleigh; English Lavender and Lilac to be exact,” Horatio said proudly.

 

“Those are northern varieties. Neither can grow in South Florida. We don't have the requisite cold season for them to go dormant,” Calleigh said. “Hot houses or botanical gardens would be my best guess.”

 

“Right again. Eric and Ryan are narrowing that down as we speak,” Horatio replied. He turned his attention to Robyn. “So how is Calleigh doing?”

 

“You _are_ checking up on me!”Calleigh declared.

 

Robyn looked up at Horatio. “She's by far the best student I have ever had. I have had to train plenty of autism professionals, many of them with Masters or Doctorates in education. None of them grasped things with as much comprehension and thoroughness as Calleigh. She's even gone beyond the basics and has already been compiling what very easily be her Masters thesis in special education specializing in autism.”

 

Horatio raised an eyebrow and gave Calleigh a very proud look as she blushed at his praise. “Hey, I'm just your typical over-achiever with a high I.Q.”

 

“And a marked lack of sleep,” Horatio said evenly.

 

“I couldn't sleep so I kept researching. It's really quite interesting, you know,” she said quickly, not liking the attention. “I took a nap in Ryan's car. I guess that's all I really needed. You can ask him if you have any doubts.”

 

“What she's written, Lt. Caine, is highly detailed and comprehensive. I'm eager to see what she can do as we progress,” Robyn said, sensing that these two had a situation brewing that needed diffusing; or at least redirecting.

 

“Not if it's at the expense of her sleep,” Horatio said. “Exhaustion can drop your vigilance and that drop can get you hurt. Believe me, I will check with Ryan. I need you at the top of your game.”

 

 

 

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“Mr. Wolfe, can I have a word with you?” Horatio asked, entering the Trace Lab.

 

Ryan looked up from his computer screen. “Sure, H, what's up?”

 

“I need some information. Calleigh was so tired last night that she didn't trust herself behind the wheel and you drove her home, yet she claims that when she got home she couldn't sleep and stays up for hours, perhaps all night doing research and reading. She says that she slept in your car. Is that correct?” Horatio asked, giving Ryan a very serious look.

 

“Yeah, she did. She was out cold almost from the time I pulled out of the parking lot,” Ryan said. “She slept most of the way to her home.

 

“You said 'most of the way'. Did she wake up?”

 

Ryan hesitated, noting the concern in his superior's eyes. “Not exactly; I woke her up. She was having, I don't know, a nightmare or something. I got concerned and tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't so I drove her home. I didn't just get her in trouble, did I?”

 

“No, you may be keeping her out of it. Thank you,” Horatio said as his cell rang. “Caine.....Uh-huh.....Insisting?.....Won't calm down?.....Okay, we'll be there.”

 

 

 

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Horatio poked his head into Firearms. Calleigh, how about some practical application; our witness is hysterical and insists on only talking to you.”

 

“Let's go,” Calleigh said, already rising and closing her book.

 

“Robyn rose as well. “May I ride along?”

 

“Stay with us and you can,” Horatio replied.

 

 

 

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The sound of a child screaming at the top of his lungs assailed them as soon as the trio entered the school building. The security guard at the door pointed. “He's in the Principal's Office. The kid went berserk for no reason. He was so wild that I had to carry him.”

 

“Thanks,” Calleigh said and bolted for the Office, the other two hot on her heels. She shot around the reception desk and into the Principal's Office. “Alright, clear the room; no one in here but me and my witness. If y'all want to watch, look through the window. Out now,” She put her kit down, shut the door and drew on gloves. Johnny was jumping up and down, slapping his cheeks and shrieking.

 

“Johnny,” she said softly. “It's okay now. Please calm down.” She slowly approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders, exerting gentle pressure to get him to still his terrified jumping and open his eyes. He stilled almost immediately and looked at her. She gave him a soft smile. “Hey, there you are. I heard you wanted to see me.”

 

“Duquesne.”

 

She kept her voice soft and reassuring. “That's right. I'm here now so what did you need to tell me, Johnny?  Did you remember something?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you hear something?”

 

“No.”

 

Calleigh took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Did you see something?”

 

“Yes.” He began his agitated bouncing again.

 

Calleigh exerted more gentle pressure to still him. “Did this something make you upset?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What was it, Johnny? What made you so upset?”

 

“I see bad man. Bad man today.”

 

“Where did you see the bad man? Think very carefully before you answer me,” Calleigh instructed softly.

 

“In window.”

 

Calleigh could feel her heart quicken as adrenaline began pumping. She kept her voice calm. “What window?” she asked, glancing up at the office window and nodding to Horatio.

 

“Window in classroom.” He became even more agitated. Calleigh pulled out her hair tie and placed his hand on her hair. “There, is that better?”

 

He clung to her hair like a lifeline. “Yes.”

 

Horatio opened the door. “Calleigh?”

 

“In a minute. Johnny, in what window did you see the bad man today?”

 

“112.”

 

“Horatio-”

 

“I'm getting the team.”

 

 

 

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Eric looked up from the footprint that he was pouring quick set into. He knelt beneath the bank of windows under classroom 112 and measured the time for the mixture to set. He spoke to the man behind him. “Someone was just standing here not too long ago. I have two juicy ones. H, where's Calleigh?”

 

“She's still inside with our witness. He's still a complete basket case and his mother has gone to pick the father up from the airport. “For right now, Calleigh is the only thing that's keeping the kid from exploding again,” Horatio said, pride for his second in command's swift and effective actions earlier in the day. She had amazed him with what she could do. Robyn had been right. She had internalized everything she'd read and could put it into practical application. “We're hoping that the father can take over when he gets here.”

 

“I don't like this one bit,” Ryan said from his position crouching under the windows. He was dusting the concrete for fingerprints. The windows themselves had a protective caging over them and they offered no help in establishing a readable fingerprint pattern. “I mean, who shoots up a classroom full of  little kids and then comes after another little kid because he's the witness? He has to be completely unhinged.”

 

Horatio and Eric nodded their agreement.

 

Ryan was silent for a short while. Then he found what he was looking for, or, at least he hoped it was what he was looking for. “Hey! Look at this, would you? I've got two full flat-palmed hand prints on the bricks!”

 

“Lift them, please,” Horatio said, although Ryan was already collecting the evidence. He looked around the area, scanning for any possible threat. “Mr. Wolfe, you were very astute in your estimation of our suspect. Good work. He is sick-sick enough to kill innocent children and threaten harm on another.”

 

“Yeah, he's probably been looking in every window on the side of the building,” Eric said with undisguised disgust. “Sick bastard.”

 

 

 

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Horatio walked away, allowing his team to do their work without “the boss” standing over them. He trusted them and they always rewarded that trust with giving every case 110 percent. They had a solve rate that was only second best to the Las Vegas Lab and Horatio knew that it was due to the talent, skill and sheer expertise of his team members in their chosen field. He had had to outmaneuver Dr. Grissom in Vegas to capture Calleigh for Miami nearly a dozen years back. He always wondered who Grissom had enticed to his team instead of the Bullet Girl.

 

Feeling very proud and satisfied, he walked back into the cool interior of the school building. As his eyes adjusted to the relatively dim interior, he heard playful conversation coming from the hall table directly across from the Office lobby.

 

In an effort to distract Johnny and keep him calm, Calleigh sat playing chess with him. He wasn't very good yet and her skills were terribly rusty from long disuse, so they were evenly matched.

 

Horatio watched for a minute before Robyn strolled up to him, her eyes still on Calleigh and the boy. “Excellent practical application of learned techniques,” she said.

 

“Meaning what?” he asked.

 

Robyn grinned wryly. “Meaning that she didn't just memorize and regurgitate it back at me. What she's doing now is called classic redirection; she's keeping him from obsessing about what upset him by using an alternative activity to engage his attention. It's not as easy as it looks. She took quite a while to discover what would occupy him enough that he needed to concentrate. Ms. Carson supplied that his father has been teaching him to play chess. She'd have tried to engage him in it, but she doesn't play. Calleigh does so she jumped right on in and suggested that they pass the time waiting for his parents to arrive by playing chess. Brilliant! I told you that she was an excellent student.”

 

“She is indeed,” Horatio said, admiration for his second in command evident in his voice. “However, I need to take her away for a few moments. Can you...”

 

“Of course.”

 

Horatio walked over to where Calleigh and Johnny were playing. “Who's winning?” he asked.

 

“ME!” Johnny shouted proudly.

 

“Not if I have anything to say about it, buster,” Calleigh bantered back easily as she moved her bishop. “Did the guys find anything helpful?”

 

“Two very clear boot prints and two full hand prints,” Horatio said.

 

“Great,” she said as Johnny moved his knight to take her bishop. “Hey, that's not fair!”

 

Johnny gave her what could only be called as a mischievous look. He waggled a finger at her. “You have to focus, Duquesne.”

 

Calleigh chuckled and ducked her head. “Admonished by a ten year old. Oh, the agony of it all!”

 

Horatio couldn't help but smile at the playful banter with a child who shouldn't be able to understand humor. It had been obvious that Johnny was teasing Calleigh. “Johnny, the information you gave Ms. Duquesne was very helpful.”

 

Johnny looked up from the board, his interest peaked. Who these new people in his life were intrigued him on an intellectual and scientific level. Could he be one one day? “Got Trace?” he asked, hoping he had the word right.

 

Horatio blinked in surprise on this first encounter with a remarkable young person. “Yes, we did.”

 

“Catch bad man?” Johnny asked, annoyed at his mouth that was unable to form all the eloquent thoughts he had. He hated the fact that he sounded like a little kid sometimes. Now was one of them.

 

“Not yet, but we're going to,” Horatio said “Johnny, do you mind if I talk to Ms. Duquesne for a minute? I promise that I won't keep her from you for too long. You have a game to finish.”

“Yes.”

 

Calleigh stood and followed Horatio a short distance from Johnny. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

 

“We need to get Johnny somewhere safe. He's the killer's next target.”

 

“This may seem insane, but Horatio, that may not be such a great idea. From everything I've learned, change, even the tiniest bit, can be disastrous for a child with autism. Change is upsetting and only  constant routine is comforting and calming. Sudden, unexpected changes can throw them off track for a prolonged period of time. If we remove him from his routine environment, it could do untold damage to his progress coupled with the trauma of possibly witnessing some of the bloodshed. I don't recommend it,” Calleigh said with the same air of authority that she always held in discussing the characteristics of any particular firearm.

 

Horatio looked on his CSI with yet another level of respect. “What do you suggest?”

 

“Well, his regular routine and familiar place is here in school. Allowing him to continue to keep his routine while providing, perhaps, a bodyguard, would be the least restrictive environment,” Calleigh shrugged. “At least that's the only workable solution that I can come up with right now.”

 

“Then that's what we'll do,” Horatio said with a nod. “Nice applied knowledge, Calleigh.”

 

“I-thanks,” she said, cheeks coloring slightly at the praise.

 

“Under the circumstances, I think you need to be the bodyguard. I know it's not something that I would normally ask you to do, but I think with the way that Johnny responds to you; it's the best option available,” Horatio explained. “I'm going to speak with Dr. Howard and I'll get back to you.”

 

“Alright, I hope she okay's this because I honestly can't think of anything better right now,” Calleigh said, glancing at Johnny. “Excuse me, he's getting agitated again. I have to go.”

 

“Keep him safe, Calleigh,” he whispered to himself as he watched Calleigh take her seat and redirect the boy back to their game.

 

 

 

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“Yes, ma'am, of course I will,” Calleigh said as she sat in a curved backed chair in Dr. Howard's office. One wall was covered with awards the Principal had received over the years. Another wall held graduating class photos from the near twenty years that Dr. Howard had been Principal of Jefferson Elementary. She was obviously proud of and protective over her school and all the souls within it.

 

“We need to keep Johnny safe. Lt. Caine has already set up the assignment and although being a body guard hasn't been in my job description in a number of years, Johnny will be perfectly safe with me,” She smiled at the haggard educator.

 

“I have no doubt you will, Ms. Duquesne. I am assured that you are still a fully qualified police officer.”

 

“I am,” Calleigh felt an uncharacteristic irritation at the innocent statement; petite, blonde and toting a southern accent did not automatically equal brainless and fragile. It seemed to always be harder convincing other women of that than any man.

 

Dr. Howard rose from behind her desk and walked around it, leaning herself on the edge. “I have a request to make of you. We have a zero tolerance no weapons policy at this school. Can you, perhaps, leave your gun someplace else?”

 

Calleigh's annoyance quickly became a low simmering anger. She tried to school her voice to a less annoyed tone. “Dr. Howard, while I can appreciate the weapons policy here, and for all the right reasons, I cannot leave my firearm behind. MDPD regulations state that while on duty and outside my lab, I am to wear my shield and firearm at all times. It also requires my firearm, even with the safety engaged, is to be fully loaded at all times. Crime scenes, Dr. Howard, are not always secure and to walk into one without all that would be necessary to protect myself and anyone with me would be playing Russian Roulette with my life and the lives of those around me. I cannot leave my firearm behind; as Johnny's bodyguard, it would be completely unconscionable for me not to use every resource available to me to ensure his safety. I'm sure you can understand that.”

 

Dr. Howard sat on the edge of her desk. “I do. However, I would like to limit the childrens' exposure to your weapon to the barest minimum I can. Is there a way for you to conceal it?”

 

Calleigh allowed a small sigh of irritation to escape her lips. Seeing the weapon was more often than not a major deterrent. “Concealing it isn't necessarily against regulations; I can wear something over it to keep the exposure at a minimum. Will that do?”

 

“Please.”

 

Calleigh rose and extended her hand. “Then that's what I'll do. We can hope that my teammates can uncover the evidence and find the killer quickly so that my presence here will be a minimal disruption to your school. If you will excuse me, I have a lot of preparation to do before tomorrow morning.”

 

 

 

   
  
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	5. Chapter 5

_**Autism is a World** _

 

 

 

The break room was blessedly empty and quiet at 7p.m. Calleigh put her mug in the microwave and turned it on. She waited patiently for her beverage to finish heating before taking it back to the table and settling in to read. She had several hours of more autism and behavioral psych training to work on before she took up her bodyguard post.

 

She was so entirely engrossed in her reading that she failed to hear the clicking of Alexx's heels on the tile floor or her friend's greeting. When Alexx touched her shoulder ever-so-lightly to get her attention, she jumped, nearly spilling her Cubano. “Dammit, Alexx, do you mind not sneaking up on me like that? You scared me half to death!” she said in a tone far sharper than she intended.

 

“I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to scare you,” Alexx said in her most soothing tone. She regarded her friend carefully and was not happy with what she saw. Calleigh was clearly exhausted and she could see faint lines of stress around her eyes. _She's headed for a fall, a hard one_. “Are you alright?”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

 _So much for the pat answer I always get. No, baby girl, you're not._ Alexx raised her eyebrow but chose to let the brush off stand. “So, what are you reading?”

 

Calleigh took a long sip of her drink. “'Teaching on the Autism Spectrum for the Special Education Classroom'. It's mostly in classroom teaching techniques; Picture Exchange Communication, properly organized and compartmentalized workstations....You know, it sounds a lot like our lab would be a wonderland for the autistic.” She waited for a reaction. She got none. “It was a joke; a particularly lame joke, but I tried.”

 

Alexx sighed and sat down. “It's riveting reading, I'm sure.”

 

“Sort of; it's actually making sense to me.”

 

“Calleigh, you haven't been to see me for any of the bullets in the school shooting and when I asked why you hadn't been to see me, I was told that you were taken off the investigation. You're exhausted and stressed out. What's wrong? Talk to me, sugar.”

 

“Nothing is wrong. I told you I'm fine,” Calleigh said far too quickly for Alexx's piece of mind. “Our witness, Johnny Donaldson, is autistic and apparently, I'm the only one that he can relate to regarding the shooting. Horatio pulled me off the case so that I can get specialized training from the U of M's Behavioral Psychology department so that I can work effectively with the kid. That's why I haven't been around. I've been cloistered in my office almost around the clock taking private classes from Professor Mix.” Granted, most of what she had said was the truth, but not all of it. She could have gone down to the morgue before her special training began, but she didn't She knew all those tiny bodies were down there and she couldn't bring herself to see them again. She didn't know how Alexx could do it. Every time Calleigh closed her eyes, they were there, shattering her peace of mind. “So, why are you still here? You're usually long gone by now. Shift ended at three.”

 

“I'm still digging bullets out of babies,” Alexx said sadly, watching Calleigh wince at the statement. “I need to get them back to their moms and dads so that the families can have closure.

 

A sense of panic so intense that made her reel swept over Calleigh, making her physically ill as images from the other morning flashed in front of her her inner eye. She slammed the rest of the coffee down, stood, rinsed her mug and then grabbed her book. “Sorry to rush out on you, Alexx. I've got to get back to studying. Robyn should be back from her dinner break any minute now.”

 

She left, hurrying toward her office; halfway there when a wave of intense nausea overcame her and she bolted for the Ladies'.  She barely made it into the stall before she threw up. Locking the stall door, she knelt and leaned her burning cheek on the cool porcelain lid and shook, breath coming in and out in ragged gasps.

 

The stall door opened and there were soft footfalls leading to another stall. The sound prompted Calleigh into motion. She stood, straightened her sweater, flushed the evidence of her current emotional state and exited the stall. She stopped at the sink and splashed icy water on her face. She was just drying off when Natalia, also working late, exited her stall.

 

“Are you okay?” Natalia asked, remembering the concern that Calleigh had shown for her health on another occasion. “You look a bit green.”

 

“I'm fine. Why is everyone asking me that? If I wasn't alright, I wouldn't be here, would I?” Calleigh snapped.

 

“Hey, I just heard that you have the stomach flu. Don't bite my head off, okay?”

 

Calleigh conjured a weak smile. “I'm sorry, Nat; really I am. I'm just having some bad moments.”

 

“Okay. Take care of yourself and get some rest,” Natalia said as she passed Calleigh on her way out. “Have a good night.”

 

“Yeah,” Calleigh whispered desolately to no one.

 

 

 

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It was well past two in the morning when Calleigh pulled in to her driveway. She was tired beyond tired, beyond exhausted. She slowly exited her vehicle, leaving her psych materials piled on the front seat. She just couldn't find the energy to lift them. She trudged up the short walk, opened her door and entered. Without turning on the light, she went directly to her bedroom. She turned on the night stand light. Within minutes, she was in her customary sleeping attire, a black t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts. Turning off the light, she settled between the cool cotton sheets. She glanced at her alarm clock: 2:45. She closed her eyes.

 

3:30 and still no real sleep came. She would drift off only to jerk awake at some innocent sound. She closed her eyes again.

 

4:07.......4:42........ and still no rest. Calleigh threw off the covers and sat up, all pretense of getting any sleep abandoned. Her body ached with tiredness and tension. She stretched, feeling the tightness that had developed in her shoulders and back. Sighing heavily, she began her morning routine.

 

 

 

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An hour later found her on the highway, headed for the Lab. She looked at the clock on the dashboard and decided that if she showed up as early as she usually did, there would be unwanted questions, especially since the night shift crew saw her leave a little after two.

 

She pulled off the highway and headed for her favorite spot in all of Miami. The beach was deserted when she pulled in and that suited her just fine. She had felt jittery and wanted to calm her nerves before starting the day. She rolled down the windows and turned up the volume on the radio, changing it from her normal WKAT Classical AM to WKIS 99 Kiss Country station. She needed voices to make her listen mindlessly to anything that wasn't going on in her head. Killing the engine, she got out and sat on the hood. Turning her attention to the glowing horizon, she settled in to watch the sunrise; the cool breeze causing her to draw her black leather dress jacket around her just a little bit tighter. Calleigh hugged her knees close and rested her chin on them. She sat, staring at the light growing over the Atlantic, the music on the radio a background soundtrack to the approaching dawn.

 

“This is 99 Kiss Country, Miami's country music station. It looks like it's going to be another perfect South Florida day. You're listening to Coffey in the morning with Staci and Terry. Let's say we greet this beautiful sunrise with a classic,” the radio said. Soft guitar strains floated out to her. The gentle, almost melancholy voice drifted out the open windows “ _Sunshine, on my shoulder, makes me happy....Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry........Sunshine, on the water looks so lovely....Sunshine, almost always makes me high.....If I had a day that I could give you....I'd give to you a day just like today....”_

 

Unbidden, unwanted images from the crime scene crowded in on her, intruding on her peaceful sunrise. The images flashed without mercy across her inner eye like the crime scene photos she had shot. Horror-struck, she wanted them to stop, willed for them to stop. “No, please....leave me in peace,” she whispered. In an effort to clear her mind of the disturbing flashback, she got off the hood and back into the car, pulling out of the parking lot and back into early rush hour traffic.

 

 

 

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Calleigh sat, once again, in the break room; this time going over Cavanaugh's work. She sipped her second cup of Cuban coffee and made notes in the margin of the report. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

 

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought H had you on bodyguard detail,” Eric said, sliding into a seat across from her.

 

She jumped, her heart pounding. After a couple of deep breaths, she replied. “Eric, you startled me.”

 

“I see that. Sorry, I didn't mean to,” Eris said, carefully watching her. Alexx had called him and vented her concerns, which appeared to be well-founded. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”

 

“Keeping tabs on Cavanaugh,” she replied sheepishly then yawned. “So sue me. I'm a perfectionist.” 

 

“How did you sleep?” Eric asked. He hadn't been blind to the dark circles that had begun to form under her eyes the day before. They were even deeper just then. “The truth, Calleigh. I mean it.”

 

“Well enough, I suppose. Up and down; mostly up,” she admitted. She couldn't meet his eyes. She knew what she'd see there and she knew she wouldn't be able to take it. “I think I was too mentally stimulated yesterday and with the late afternoon adrenaline spike; I just couldn't wind myself down enough.”

 

No nightmares,” he asked, remembering what Ryan told him. He was worried because Calleigh was not behaving like Calleigh. She was jumpy and not sleeping.

 

“Eric, a bad dream every now and then-”

 

“Stop right there,” Eric said, cutting her off. His voice held deep concern when he spoke again. “Calleigh, you've slept very little in the last 48 hours. I'm worried that you're headed for crash and when that happens, I'm afraid that something might happen to you. If that isn't enough, you have a child to keep safe. You need to be sharp and focused. You just can't do that if you're exhausted and I see that is exactly what you are.”

 

His concern for her touched her deeply. “Eric, I am as sharp as I ever have been. I am alert and am capable of keeping both Johnny and myself safe, no matter what it takes. You know I've done almost 80 hours on nothing but cat naps and caffeine. I'm alright. Believe that,” Calleigh said softly.

 

“Alright, I trust you. You know I do,” Eric said, hoping against all hope that she was as fine as she protested she was. He stood, coming to stand behind her, placing his hands on her steel hard shoulders. He hadn't been pleased with what he saw, but his gut told him to just let it be and let her come to him. She wasn't ready yet. “H has your schedule. If anything big comes up, I'll call you when I know you have a free minute.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  
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	6. Chapter 6

_**Autism is a World** _

 

 

 

Mrs. Barry was a pleasant looking woman in her mid-fifties with short graying hair cut in a spiky, artsy style. She was dressed in a medium blue blouse and tan slacks and a blue sweat jacket that proclaimed 'Peace!' in different pastel colors. Her gray eyes were bright and merry with just a hint of mischief in them. When she spoke, her voice was warm and musical. Calleigh found herself drawn to the older woman and liked her immediately.

 

“Thank you for your co-operation, Mrs. Barry. I realize that my presence here can be disruptive to a class of curious children,” Calleigh said, smiling brightly at the very hip grandmotherly woman.

 

“Not at all Detective Duquesne. I'd like you to speak to the class beforehand, though. They'll be curious, as you've already said, about who you are and why you're here. The more they know, the less fuss they'll make when Johnny is here,” Mrs. Barry said, finding herself liking the earnest young woman. If it wasn't for the strength in her bearing and edge of steel in her bright green eyes, she would have thought the detective too be too fragile for police work.

 

“That won't be a problem at all. I want to make as little a disturbance as I can while I'm here. May I speak to the class while Johnny is still with the patrol officer?” Calleigh asked.

 

“Certainly,” the educator agreed. She ushered Calleigh into the fourth grade mainstream classroom. The walls were covered with the childrens' academic and artwork, reading materials, colorful posters proclaiming the joys of reading and math. A large world map all done in fabric paint dominated the rear wall. The children all chatted and laughed before getting down to the business of the school day.

 

“Okay, calm down you clowns. We have a visitor and she needs to talk to you about something very serious. Please be on your best behavior.” It took them a few minutes to calm themselves down and become still enough for Calleigh to speak. Mrs. Barry cleared her throat and the last two students stopped talking. “Go ahead.”

 

Calleigh stepped forward. “Good morning. My name is Calleigh Duquesne and I'm a police officer and Crime Scene Investigator for the Miami-Dade police department. I'm sure you all know what went on Wednesday morning. It was a terrible thing and I am one of the investigators that was assigned to investigate the crime. Because one of your classmates, Johnny Donaldson, is our only eyewitness to what happened and we want to keep him safe, I have been assigned to be his bodyguard until we catch the criminal. I don't know how long I'll have to be here, but I don't want you to worry. No one is in any danger at all. Y'all are just as safe here as you ever were. I know that you must have some questions, so you can ask me whatever you want, but if it's about the investigation, I'm not allowed to talk about it.”

 

A boy in the first row raised his hand. The name tag on his desk proclaimed him to be “Rodolpho” “I have one!”

 

“Okay, go ahead.”

 

“Are you really a cop?” he asked shyly.

 

“Yes, I am,” she replied, moving the side of her blazer over just enough so the silver of her detective's badge shone in the fluorescent lighting. The children made appreciative noises.

 

“Did you ever shoot anyone?” another child asked. His name tag said “Cristian”.

 

Calleigh hesitated and glanced at Mrs. Barry who gave her an encouraging nod. “Yes, Cristian, I have. I didn't like it and I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice. Any time I draw my firearm, I have no choice. It's always to protect either myself, my partner or an innocent victim. And, before you ask, no you can't see it. Principal's orders.”

 

There were several more questions before Mrs. Barry called the session to an end and Calleigh left to retrieve her charge.

 

 

 

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“Got anything on our guy?” Eric asked, entering Trace. He leaned on the table looking over Ryan's shoulder.

 

Ryan looked up. “Either this guy is squeaky clean or he's from out of state. I'm running the prints through the national AFIS database right now. This could take hours; any luck with the footprints?”

 

Eric sighed heavily and shook his head. He had hoped for more than he got. “They're Timberline work boots. Same pollen trace as was on out witness, though, not that it's all that much help. The boot has replaced Doc Martins and are about as common. Just our luck, every construction, dock worker and day laborer usually wears them.” He pointed to an open binder by Ryan's elbow. What are you reading, Einstein?”

 

“Calleigh's autism stuff,” Ryan answered. “It got my attention when she was telling us about it the other day.”

 

Eric groaned. “Don't tell me that you think you're autistic.”

 

“I'm OCD; not a hypochondriac, Delko,” Ryan said. “You know, Calleigh is right; this is really interesting. There's all sorts of perception issues when a person is autistic; sounds, smells, colors and textures.”

 

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, pulling a stool over, looking at the page Ryan was pointing to, his face alight with interest.

 

“There's such a wide variety of reactions and triggers. Where one kid can't deal with a certain kind of smell or sound, another kid finds the exact smell or sound soothing and centering and needs it as a signal for calming himself. One thing that seems to distress the bulk of autistic people are loud, unexpected noises like fire drill alarms, sirens and the like,” Ryan explained.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“They also seem a little OCD about some things,” Ryan continued, pleased that he had piqued Eric's interest. He began to read the text. “Things need to be compartmentalized and organized into groupings that make sense to them. Lining up objects, grouping by size, color, shape or texture is something that tends to be a common factor.”

 

Eric whistled. “Man, it sounds like this entire Lab would be an autistic person's playground. Everything is compartmentalized, categorized, lined up and sorted by subject,” he commented, unknowingly echoing Calleigh's comment made the night before to Alexx. “Hey, does it say anywhere in there if someone can be autistic and not know it?”

 

Ryan grinned wickedly. “Think you're autistic, Delko?”

 

“Just read, smart guy.” Eric shook his head in exasperation. _Geez, just when you want a little more knowledge....._

 

“Actually, there's something called Asperger's Syndrome. It's a high functioning form of autism that is hard to diagnose because it's not very visible in a person's behaviors. In fact, people our age and older are now first being diagnosed with autism because no one thought to look at that when they were kids. It had a really bad stigma back then. Folks used to blame the mothers of these kids and call them Refrigerator Moms, thinking that the kid became autistic because the mother didn't show them enough love. They were cold; get the name: Refrigerator Mom? Even in the late 90's this was still going on. Anyway, it appears that Asperger people, or Aspies, can really function and a lot of them have Master's and Doctorate degrees. Dr. Temple Grandin is a famous mechanical engineer. She figured out how to engineer cattle gates so that the animals had a lower stress factor when passing through them. It was a revolution in the meat packing industry. The cattle actually seem to want to go through those gates instead of fighting it. Calleigh has a note here about picking up one of Dr. Grandin's books: Thinking in Pictures. There are more notable people here, but I've only just gotten through with reading about Dr. Grandin,” Ryan said, sounding nearly as authoritative as Calleigh did on the subject. “Half this Lab could be Asperger's or ghosted Asperger's and never know it without a formal diagnosis.”

 

“Wow, I didn't know it could be that common,” Eric said in awe.

 

“Calleigh said that the kid she's body guarding is supposed to be gifted. I guess autism doesn't always equate with a low I.Q.,” Ryan surmised. “You were there on the scene. Have you met the kid?”

“Yeah. He latched onto Calleigh like a lifeline. I don't get it. Kids aren't her thing, but this kid just took to her. He freaked out when he saw our guy through the window and he made it perfectly clear that he wanted no one but Calleigh with him,” Eric said.

 

“She must have something he needs or responds to,” Ryan said. “He's ten; hormones are kicking in. Maybe he thinks she's hot. I don't know a guy around here whose head hasn't been turned just by her walking through the hall.”

 

Eric felt a surge of jealousy tear through him at Ryan's off hand comment. He didn't really know why because they were just friends, right? She had been more than kind, more than a mere friend after he'd been shot. The kiss on the cheek, the incredible awkwardness when she had been seeing Jake, the night at a carnival when she broke up with Jake, her willingness to be more emotionally open with him lately. Could it be called just a friendship anymore? He shook it off when he realized Ryan was staring at him oddly.

 

“Just keep reading and you and Cal can geek out on it when she gets back this afternoon,” Eric said. “That is, if she doesn't need a nap after dealing with body guarding all day. It's tense work but extremely boring. I don't envy her at all.”

 

“Boring and tense?” Ryan asked even more confused than he was at the sudden stillness and intensity that Delko just displayed.

 

“Yeah, you tend to stay in the background and have very little to do with your charge as possible while constantly scanning the environment for threats. You have to be  hyper vigilant 100 percent of the time,” Eric said. “I had to do that once when I was still on patrol. It was brutal. She's going to need either a nap or an hour on the firing range just to come down and be able to relax.”

 

Ryan grinned. “Or both.”

 

 

 

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“No, I want Duquesne to help me.” Johnny demanded clearly and politely.

 

They were sitting in the mainstream Reading class. Elizabeth sat next to Johnny while Calleigh leaned against a table toward the back of the room.

 

“Sorry, Johnny, that's not what she's here for and you already said you understand that. Please keep working,” Elizabeth said patiently, although her nerves were beginning to fray slightly at both the idea that her dear Johnny could be in mortal danger and at the disturbance of having a stranger following them everywhere.

 

“No!” Johnny wailed, becoming very agitated.

 

Calleigh watched the exchange with interest; Elizabeth applied all the correct techniques and was wonderfully effective most of the time, but this time Johnny wanted nothing to do with it and was refusing to calm down. Elizabeth threw a look back at Calleigh, clearly embarrassed in being unable to help her student. Calleigh nodded and came forward, placing her hands on his shoulder and exerting gentle pressure. He stopped immediately and sat down.

 

“Focus please,” she whispered in his ear. He reached up and took hold of her hand. Calleigh could sense Elizabeth's irritation and thoroughly understood. She'd be just as annoyed if some stranger came in and messed with her ballistics lab. It was the fourth time that morning that Johnny had shown a preference for Calleigh over Elizabeth. “Sorry,” she whispered to Elizabeth.

 

“Yeah,” the aide breathed back.

 

As Johnny bent contentedly over his task, Calleigh turned to Elizabeth, her voice still a whisper. “I really am.”

 

Elizabeth didn't look convinced. “Sure.”

 

“Look, I'm not trying to be a disturbance here. I am supposed to be only an observer and not a participant,” Calleigh struggled to keep the newly rising irritation out of her voice. The last thing she needed was more tension.

 

“Yeah, but for somebody who said they didn't know anything about autism two days ago, you sure educated yourself in a hurry,” she said, the hurt evident in her voice.

 

Calleigh suddenly felt the urge to offer and explanation. “Listen, I had a crash course from a professor at U of M just so I can work with Johnny if I needed to. He's our only eyewitness and can positively identify our killer. He's already done it once. And you're right-I would love to spend more time with Johnny, but the fact is – when this is all over, I'm gone.” Calleigh paused and gentled her voice. She needed an ally here and not an enemy. “I was never meant to be a permanent fixture in his life; you are. You're familiar and comforting; the one he will really turn to when things get serious in life. I'm just the shiny new toy, the novelty.”

 

“I know that. I think I'm just being too overprotective because I know that you'll only be around for a short while and he's going to want explanations why you can't come to school anymore once this is over,” Elizabeth said, offering a smile. “I just don't want him to get too attached. I've been with him for four years now and we've developed a bond over that time, yet, he's bonded with you almost over night.”

 

“I didn't expect that,” Calleigh admitted. “Maybe it's because, in our own ways, we've both been underestimated. You warned me about his speech abilities not matching his mental abilities; people underestimate him because he doesn't express himself verbally very well. People underestimate me all the time. I get the 'dumb blonde' syndrome. No one realizes that I have a MENSA mind inside an all-American girl/ beach bunny appearance. We've both been judged to be less than we are. I guess he picked up on that.'

 

“He is perceptive in that way,” Elizabeth said, a new respect for the detective dawning in her.

 

Johnny released Calleigh's hand in favor of Elizabeth's The women exchanged smiles and Calleigh backed up, returning to her role as the observer, allowing Johnny's aide to take center stage for him again.

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  


 

 


	7. Chapter 7

_**Autism is a World** _

 

 

 

“Dr. Mix, please sit down,” Horatio offered. He was not exactly eager to have the coming conversation and it only proved to raise his level of concern for his senior CSI. “On the phone you said you needed to discuss something to do with Calleigh. Is there a problem?”

 

Robyn took the offered seat, reaching into her brief case as she did so. She removed a notebook and handed it to him. “There's no problem at all. Calleigh has been a model student; I couldn't ask for anyone better. I want you to page through this. This is the notebook that Calleigh had been making notes in the entire time I was with her and while she was researching on her own. I wouldn't have thought to bring them to your attention but-'

 

“That these are remarkably insightful. She has a few interesting theories in here. How do they stack up?” Horatio asked as he continued to read Calleigh's neat handwriting; the amount of information she had synthesized was truly remarkable.

 

“Extremely well, Lieutenant,” Robyn said. “If this was organized properly, and it's already footnoted, it could easily be her Master's thesis. Let me explain something to you; Calleigh learned all of this-understanding, internalizing and being able to put theory into practice in the most difficult way possible. Contrary to popular belief, total immersion bombardment, like is done for those learning a second language, doesn't always work with every subject, yet, let alone with something as complex and complicated as behavioral psych and autism education. Yet, she managed it; she tackled everything I gave her and virtually devoured the information. I know she said that she already had a degree, but she never mentioned what that was in. Could you enlighten me?”

 

Horatio leaned back in his chair and took in the information Robyn had laid out for him. A fierce pride in Calleigh's accomplishment burned in his chest. “Her primary degree is in Physics and her minor was in neurophysiology. Why did you need to know that?”

 

“Testing a theory,” Robyn said cryptically. “It's only going to go in her favor that she already has a degree in such a difficult and mentally challenging field.”

 

“So, what are you trying to tell me?” Horatio asked, curiosity piqued as to Robyn's intentions.

 

“I'm going to recommend that Calleigh receive the degree that she has already earned the hard way,” Robyn said.

 

“Then you're serious about the Master's?” Horatio asked, unaware such things were given. He'd earned his degree in Chemistry the old fashioned way-four years of college. “That would be an honorary, wouldn't it?”

 

“At the very least. Though it's a bit unorthodox, I'm going to try and push for a full degree under extraordinary circumstances. Calleigh will have to reorder her notes into an actual paper and appear before a jury panel, but I don't think that it'll be a problem, given her already acute mental prowess,” Robyn said. “In my eyes, she's already earned it.”

 

Horatio smiled at her. “Then, Dr. Mix, if she's earned it, she should have it. There's no question about that. See if you can make it happen.”

 

 

 

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“I've got it!” Ryan nearly shouted with excitement. “Our perp is Carlos Morales; he was once in jail in southern California for aggravated assault on an old girlfriend. His employment records state that he's in maintenance at Vizcaya Museum and Gardens right here in Miami.”

 

Horatio's lips set themselves in a tight smile. “Then let's pick him up, Mr. Wolfe.”

 

 

 

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The volume in the cafeteria was normal for that time of day, with the third, fourth and fifth grades all crowding in for their lunchtime. Calleigh surveyed the large, cavernous room. It held at least 300 children, plus teachers,, aides and other educational support personnel, who seemed entirely oblivious to the noise level around them. She was reminded of her days in grade school and junior high and felt deeply contrite about every classroom shout, paper ball/spitball launched, every rubber band snapped, paper airplane thrown and every junior high playground fight (and there were many) that she had fought.

 

She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to lessen the tension that had been growing there for the last fifteen minutes. She was used to a nearly silent lab and the amount of noise that she was currently experiencing weighed heavily on her already frayed nerves, so much so, that when her cell vibrated at her hip, she jumped. She snatched it, looking at the caller ID. She flipped it open.

 

“What, Eric?” she snapped.

 

“Calleigh, what's wrong?” Eric asked, deeply concerned.

 

“Volume; nothing,” She plugged her other ear, making the sound recede to the background. It instantly soothed her. “What do you need” she asked in a much more calm and controlled tone.

 

“Horatio and Ryan have gone to the botanic garden to pick our guy up for questioning. His name is Carlos Morales and has been in for aggravated assault before,” Eric said, still worried about her stress level. “Now we get to add murder. Are you sure you're alright?”

 

“I'm fine,” she said, keeping her eyes sweeping the cafeteria. “Johnny is fine and Educators are saints no matter what religion they practice. That's all I have to say.”

 

Eric stifled laughter. “A day in the life of a grade school teacher put the fear of God into you?”

 

“Something like that,” she said, sounding weary.

 

“Well, you hang in there and you can tell me over dinner at Pat's,” Eric said. He could only imagine the sound level sound level where Calleigh was. It was almost deafening to him over the phone.

 

“It's a date,” she replied, hanging up.

 

 

 

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“He's not in today, man. He wasn't in yesterday, either. He called in sick,” Alfonso Falcon said. He was a muscularly built Hispanic man with close cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. His uniform was spotless. It was obvious that this man was the head of the Maintenance and Grounds crew. “Tuesday and Wednesday are his normal days off. Did he do something stupid?”

 

“He might know something about a homicide. We just want to talk to him,” Horatio said, toying with his sunglasses. “Has he been behaving oddly lately?”

 

“Not odd, no. He was bummed; his girl, Yvette, dumped him over the weekend,” Alfonso supplied.

 

Horatio and Ryan exchanged a brief yet significant look. “Do you happen to know what she does for a living?” Ryan asked casually.

 

“Yeah, a librarian or teacher or something. She works with little kids,” he replied, the news of the past couple of days dawning on him. His eyes widened and his faint accent thickened. “Wait a minute, you think he could have shot up that classroom?”

 

“We're not sure of anything yet,” Ryan said placatingly. “Can we have a look at his locker?”

 

“Yeah, sure; right this way.” Alfonso lead them to the employee locker room and pointed out Carlos' locker.

 

Once Ryan procured several sets of prints, he turned to Horatio, who was in quiet conversation with Alfonso, note pad out. “I'm going to go over and scan these straight to the Lab; if our guy is in the wind, Calleigh could be in the line of fire at the school. I'll give a heads up to Delko.”

 

“He and Frank can go over to our guy's residence and pick him up,” Horatio replied, the knot of worry over Calleigh's welfare becoming tighter in his stomach.

 

 

 

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“H, we have a match,” Ryan said, giving him Morales' address “Frank and Eric are heading over there.”

 

“Then, let's join them, Mr. Wolfe.”

 

 

 

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The ride from the Botanic Garden to Morales' residence was short; Horatio and Ryan arrived first. Without waiting, they began to survey the house; it was a small, modest home in a very working class neighborhood and it didn't take them long to search around the exterior.

 

They stood on either side of the front door. Horatio knocked. “Miami-Dade Police, Mr. Morales. Open up.” There was no reply save for a dog barking down the block. Horatio lowered his voice so only Ryan could hear in case Morales was in the house and not responding. “On three.....one.....two....three!” With Ryan covering him, Horatio crashed into the thin door with all the strength in his wiry six foot frame. The door splintered and gave in easily under the impact, knocking it off it's hinges. It was immediately apparent that there was no one inside. Horatio reholstered his weapon while Ryan kept his out and remained vigilant. Appearances could be deceiving. With that arrangement, they began their investigation.

 

Ryan was just walking back to the Hummer when Eric and Frank arrived. “It's empty, Delko, but we found this.” He handed Eric an evidence bag with a piece of paper in it. On that paper was Johnny's daily schedule from arrival at school to which day he had band practice. The personal information made Eric's blood run cold. _If this guy wasn't at work and not at home, he had to be..._ “Frank, we've got to get to that school.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  
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	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8** _

 

 

 

It was organized chaos. At least that's what it looked like to the casual observer. The theory was, once the pandemonium died down, that some kid had tripped the fire alarm, not intending any harm to come to anyone. It came out that some kid in the fifth grade was just trying to get out of taking a test. The memories of grade school children could be surprisingly short at times. The culprit was caught and the justice was swiftly dispensed in light of the occurrence slightly over 48 hours previous; they were expelled.

 

Outside the school building and across the street, neatly hidden by a tall bush, Carlos Morales watched the children file back in. He couldn't believe his dumb luck. They were having a fire drill. While all the teachers were vigilant in overseeing their children and keeping a strict count on them, there was always that inevitable time when the teacher had to turn her back on her students in order to lead them back inside.

 

It had taken him very little time to figure out where his target's classroom stood during the drill. Now he saw the kid clearly as he edged closer to where the boy stood with some blonde woman. It didn't matter to him. All he wanted was the kid; Blondie wasn't important. He figured she was some scaredy-rabbit student teacher.

 

He moved in closer, watching and waiting for his opportunity. Finally, he saw it. Johnny and Calleigh were some of the very last to near the entrance to the school. Morales rocketed across the street, throwing his full weight into Calleigh, body slamming her into the wrought iron fence, knocking the air from her lungs. With a pained grunt, she went down like a sack of potatoes. He grabbed the kid.

 

Struggling to pull air into her lungs, Calleigh hauled herself back to her feet, drawing her weapon as she did so. “Miami-Dade Police! Don't move!” She spared a quick glance at the few children and teachers that were gaping at the scene. “Get everyone inside; now.”

 

“What about-” a teacher began to ask, terrified.

 

“IN-SIDE,” Calleigh growled. She held her firearm steadily in front of her, trained directly on her assailant. Her fear for Johnny was a cold, hard ball in the pit of her stomach. She did her level best to radiate calm and strength over to him. Morales held Johnny in front of him like a shield, a gun in his right hand and his left arm wrapped around Johnny's chest. “Alright, this is what you're going to do. Let the boy go. Don't make it worse for yourself by hanging on to him.”

 

Johnny shook. “Duquesne!” he cried in terror.

 

Calleigh schooled her voice to it's most soothing tone. “It'll be alright, Johnny. I won't let him hurt you.” _Close range, agitated, inexperienced shooter; crappy odds all around._

 

“What are you gonna do, Buffy? I have him and you won't shoot me because you might hit him,” Morales said smugly, pointing the gun at Johnny's head.

 

“Don't even think about it,” Calleigh warned dangerously. “We already know that you killed Yvette Ramirez and her entire class. You've already accumulated enough time that the most lenient sentence you'll get is LWOP. Don't add another life to it; put the gun down, or I'll make you put it down and it won't be pretty. You're so very wrong. I can hit you and not ruffle a hair on that child's head. I'm giving you a chance; don't be stupid,” she said with all the bravado she could muster.

 

The sirens that had only been faint moments before, now roared to full volume as a department Hummer roared around the corner, lights flashing and siren screaming. Several radio cars followed. Morales switched his target from Johnny to Calleigh. He began to take aim, his inexperience obvious to Calleigh. “Cavalry, huh? Not gonna help you.”

 

“DROP YOUR WEAPON!” Eric shouted from Morales' left side. He had his firearm drawn and trained on Morales as well.

 

 _Talk about coming over the hill at the eleventh hour! Take it easy, Eric, this guy is nervous._ Calleigh felt herself relax slightly as the odds tipped in her favor.

 

Involuntarily, Morales turned his head at the sound of Eric's voice, loosening his grip on Johnny as he did so, slightly lowering his weapon, yet still keeping it trained on Calleigh. Calleigh motioned frantically to Johnny to come to her. When he slipped out from under Morales' arm and shot to her side, she shoved him behind her, shielding him with her own body. “Johnny, I need you to focus completely right now. Stay behind me no matter what happens. Keep your shadow in mine. One shadow. Can you do that?” Calleigh spoke quickly but urgently, glancing at the ground where their shadows merged.

 

“Yes, Duquesne.”

 

Calleigh watched as Eric moved in closer. The surprise of having someone move in so close so quickly made Morales dangerous and sloppy. His finger involuntarily contracted against the trigger and the gun fired. Things went in slow motion, it seemed; Calleigh turned to shove Johnny to the ground; a hot, searing pain erupted in her left knee as she landed on top of the boy.  A second shot rang out and then there was the sound of many feet running.

 

Calleigh lay still atop Johnny, covering him with her own body until she could get an all clear signal. Everything sped up to normal and Calleigh faintly heard Eric tell her that they had Morales in custody. Ignoring her own pain, she sat up, checking Johnny over. Her heart clenched when she saw blood on Johnny's pant leg. “Johnny, are you alright?” she managed around the lump in her throat.

 

Johnny sat up, completely unharmed. “I fine, Duquesne.”

 

She threw her arms around him in a hug, tears of relief standing in her eyes. She couldn't fight them as her body began to shake from the adrenaline pumping through her. “Thank goodness you're safe!”

 

Johnny untangled himself from her and looked at her, noticing her blood-soaked pant leg. He saw the tears standing in her eyes. “You hurt youself, Duquesne. You bleeding. You save me. No cry. It an accident. You be okay. I take care of you.” He took one clumsy finger and wiped a tear away.

 

Calleigh managed a small smile. “Go inside, Johnny. Go help Ms. Carson not be afraid. I'll be fine. Look; Eric is coming over to take care of me. Go on, I'll be fine.” She pointed shakily over to where Eric was already turning away from the patrol officers leading Morales to a radio car. He spoke to Frank before jogging toward where Johnny and Calleigh still sat on the sidewalk.

 

“Okay,” he said, giving her another hug, but refused to leave her side until Eric knelt down next to them.

 

“Thanks for taking care of her for me, Johnny,” Eric said as the boy rose and went into the waiting arms of his aide. Elizabeth was white as a sheet, but she was keeping it together. She had been at lunch, and therefore, not with Johnny when the alarm was pulled. She thanked any deity listening that Calleigh had been there. Things could have been so much worse without her.

 

“Rescue was called, Cal. They'll be here shortly,” Eric said as he gently probed her knee. The bullet still appeared to be inside. When she didn't respond to his voice or his touch, he looked up at her. “Calleigh?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Calleigh said, watching after Johnny. Once he was in the building and out of sight, the small  trickle of tears began to fall in earnest. Eric wrapped his arms around her as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” she squeaked.

 

“What for, Querida?” Eric asked gently. He drew her in closer and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “Are you sorry for putting your charge's safety above your own? Are you sorry for performing your duties in the most outstanding way you could?”

 

She took a shaky breath and began to get herself under control. She still shook from the adrenaline. “No, not that. For-”

 

“Calleigh, you're human and you've just been shot in the line of duty. Don't try to apologize for your reaction,” Eric said. He cuddled her a little closer as she slowly got herself back under control. “I'm coming to the hospital with you. I need to know firsthand that you're okay.”

 

She nodded as the Rescue workers approached.

 

 

 

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Surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it left in it's wake over, Calleigh lay in her hospital bed, knee bandaged and propped up by pillows. She stirred, yawning, and opened her eyes. She expected to be alone, or perhaps Eric or Horatio sitting at her side. She had not anticipated the young woman she saw in her bedside chair. She had soft brown eyes and short, wispy brown hair. Calleigh managed a sleepy smile. “Hey, Rebecca. I figured you'd show up soon.”

 

“How do you feel, Calleigh?” she asked, rising from her chair and standing next to the bed so it's occupant could see her without having to crane her head at an uncomfortable angle.

 

Calleigh looked away for a moment. “That's a pretty loaded question. I don't just want to talk to you. I think I _need_ to talk to you.”

 

“About being shot?” Rebecca asked, knowing that the woman had never taken a bullet before and that she might find it traumatic, especially being a firearms expert.

 

“No, it's not that. It's something else entirely. This happened a couple of days ago....”

 

 

 

  
  
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	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9** _

 

 

 

Calleigh pushed her tasteless hospital breakfast around her plate as she contemplated her conversation with Rebecca Wellington from Psychological Services from the night before. Rebecca had originally thought that Calleigh would be having difficulties dealing with being shot. In all honest truth, being shot didn't bother Calleigh much at all. She always knew that there was a possibility in her career that she'd catch a bullet somewhere. It was only a matter of when.

 

As Calleigh had begun to tell Rebecca her real reason for needing to speak to her, she began to be overwhelmed with her emotions as each crashed in wave after wave over her, effectively overwhelming her in intensity. She spoke of her reaction at the crime scene and the anxiety, nightmares when she could sleep and flashbacks she'd been having ever since. She told Rebecca about the cold sweating, sleeplessness and nausea. Rebecca had insisted on Calleigh describing the crime scene as best she could to help find the trigger. Once Calleigh began her description, she found herself beginning to cry; and once she began that, she found that she couldn't stop. Instead of trying to comfort her, Rebecca encouraged Calleigh to keep going with her description, waiting patiently for the narrative to end.

 

Only when Calleigh ceased speaking did Rebecca let her know what she thought. It was an entirely simple explanation: Calleigh had hit her wall with what she could stomach in processing. It was something like a short term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but instead of Calleigh needing to contend with it for the rest of her life, it would gradually fade into the background and then disappear for good.  Every field CSI went through it at least once in their career. She had seen it several times before and once the case was closed, within a little bit of time and with some therapy, the CSI would regain their equilibrium.

 

Calleigh placed her head in her hands and let out a long sigh of relief that things would be alright again. She had agreed to daily sessions and a mild sedative in case she had more trouble sleeping. For the first time since the investigation began, Calleigh began to feel more like her old self.

 

Her musings were interrupted by the door opening. She looked over as Johnny shot eagerly into the room and jumped up on the bed, hugging her tightly. He was followed by his mother and a very handsome African-American man.

 

“Be careful, Johnny,” his mother cautioned. “She got hurt, remember?”

 

Calleigh laughed, hugging Johnny back. “I didn't expect to see you here, buster!”

 

“Detective Duquesne, this is Johnny's father, Warren Donaldson,” Yukari said, gesturing toward him.

 

Calleigh extended her hand to shake his. She disengaged herself from Johnny, who then happily snuggled up next to her on the pillows. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, although I wish it were under different circumstances.

 

Yukari placed a modest tulip arrangement on Calleigh's bedside table. “I know this isn't enough, but we wanted to thank you for everything you've done for Johnny.”

 

“You put your own life at risk protecting our son, Detective. That is a debt that we can never repay and our gratitude is without end,” Mr. Donaldson said warmly.

 

“Thank you,” Calleigh said, smiling at them. “Mr. Donaldson, Ms. Sato, my job is to serve and protect. It's a calling that I take very seriously; your son was placed in my care, and that is a very special, sacred  and precious trust. I would have walked through Hell itself to keep him safe.”

 

Mr. Donaldson walked to her side, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “We'll be forever grateful for your dedication to your duty. You're part of our family, now.”

 

Calleigh ducked her head, overwhelmed by their warmth and generosity. “Thank you,” she said, blinking back tears.

 

Horatio had been watching the exchange with keen interest from the doorway. He had known that Calleigh had been going through something, but wasn't certain as to what it was. Rebecca had spoken to him, letting him know that she saw Calleigh and they'd be having some sessions for a little while. She didn't elaborate on the discussion, but only assured him that Calleigh was fine and would continue to be so.

 

He cleared his throat. “I don't mean to interrupt.”

 

“Horatio!” Calleigh exclaimed in surprise as he entered the room. She wasted no time in introducing him to Johnny's parents.

 

The two men shook hands. “Lieutenant, we came to thank Detective Duquesne for her diligence and dedication to keeping Johnny safe. We feel lucky that she was the one looking out for him.”

 

Horatio smiled warmly, the affection in his voice making his a low purr. “Mr. Donaldson, I feel the same way every day.”

 

“We won't take up any more of your time, Det-” Mr. Donaldson began.

 

“It's Calleigh. If we're going to be family, you had better start using my first name,” she said with another bright smile.

 

Mr. Donaldson glanced between the two CSI's, seeing something unfinished there. “Calleigh, I think you and the good Lieutenant might have some catching up to do. Come on, Johnny. Time to go.”

 

“Before you go, sir, I did want to speak with you,” Horatio said, stepping closer. “Johnny is still our only eye witness to the crime. I'm afraid that he'll need to testify in court. Under the special circumstances, I'm sure we can get accommodations for him.”

 

Yukari looked pleadingly at Calleigh, who took the hint. “I'll be there, Mr. Donaldson. In fact, as the body guard, I'll have to testify as well. Don't worry; it'll be fine and I'm sure he'll be more than valuable in putting Morales away for a lifetime.” She regarded the small family. “Ms. Carson was right about Johnny. He's an extraordinary young man. If it would be alright with you, I'd like to keep in touch just to see how he's doing.”

 

Yukari smiled at her. “We would be happy to keep you up on him; that would be wonderful.” She nudged her son toward the door. “Call us when you're out of the hospital and ready for visitors.”

 

Calleigh's smile widened, making her green eyes sparkle. The immense joy and satisfaction she felt at that moment made her conclude that everything that she had been through in the past 72 hours had been more than worth any pain it had caused her. “I will. Bye, Johnny.”

 

He flapped a hand at her, smiling broadly. “Bye Duquesne.

 

Calleigh waited until they were well and truly gone before turning her attention back to Horatio. “I know why you're here,” she said softly, not willing to break the warm glow that Johnny's visit brought to her.

 

He sat down on her bed, careful not to jostle her knee from it's perch. He leveled his blue eyes at her. “I'm not going to question you. I just want to know what happened.”

 

At first she couldn't look him in the eyes. “I, uhm, I hit my wall. Rebecca said that it was natural and normal for any CSI. I found my limit in what I could tolerate processing. I guess it was the children....I don't know for sure right now. All I know is that I felt a whole lot better after talking with Rebecca last night. I'll be seeing her until I can find my balance again. I guess it'll be a good thing that I'll be on medical leave for a little while anyway.”

 

“She told me that she spoke with you and that you'll be fine in no time. That's....that's good to hear. I see you finally got some sleep.” Horatio said.

 

“Chemically induced from the anesthesia when they took the bullet out, but yeah. I slept like a rock last night. I heard that Ryan recovered the bullet for evidence,” Calleigh replied.

 

“He did. Calleigh, as far as I know, you've never been shot before. How are you feeling about that right now?” Horatio asked.

 

 She was silent for a few moments before replying, “Surprisingly good, actually. I knew that I wouldn't go my entire career in law enforcement without being shot once. I don't count the bullet that the vest caught last year, either. I got a bad bruise, not a hospital bed. Better me than Johnny, anyway.”

 

“You did an exemplary job, by the way. I couldn't be more proud of you. You went well above and beyond your scope as a CSI and I put in a commendation for you and a recommendation that you officially receive the promotion to Supervisor for the day shift. You've been doing the job unofficially for years and did a commendable job as acting Lieutenant when Eric and I went to Rio last year. There's no gain in the pay scale, but it looks good on your record,” Horatio said warmly, blue eyes sparkling as his smiled at her. He hadn't realized how much he depended on her every day just help him keep the Lab running smoothly. “I'm just glad that you're going to be okay and I want to apologize for something.”

 

“Horatio, you haven't-”

 

What he had to say was already hard enough for him to admit without her trying to  distract him from it. “Let me finish, Calleigh. Since Marisol was killed I now realize that I haven't been there for you or anyone else in the Lab unless they sought me out. You were nearly killed three separate times in the span of a year and I never once checked up on how you were doing because you seemed fine. Calleigh, you could have been falling apart inside, but I assumed that you were fine because you looked that way to me. I should have known better.”

 

“You're right, you should have checked up on me,” Calleigh said softly. “And I did have a hard time with a few things. I really needed your back-up when Stetler forced me to take a breathalyser test right in the middle of the Lab; when he grilled me about a brunch tab that was on my day off. I really needed you, Horatio, and I don't know where you were. I felt like I was hanging in mid-air and could fall at any moment. I was really scared, not only for my professional reputation, but I could have lost my job over something that I didn't even do. I had no back-up.”

 

“Calleigh, I...I didn't know that you were grilled like that,” Horatio admitted, guilt lacing his voice.

 

“You would have if you had bothered to even check in with me. Where were you when my Lab blew up after my professional competency was put in question and I was put on administrative leave and  had to retake all of my proficiencies again as if I were a newbie? Where were you? Did you even protest that judgment? I don't know because I never saw you or heard from you. Thank God I had Eric to lean on when it became too hard and he has plenty of his own problems without having to help me shoulder mine,” Calleigh snapped, then took a deep breath before going on. “I'm sorry I'm so harsh, but it needs to be said and if you're promoting me to Supervisor, then you're going to hear it from me now.  I know you have your own personal issues, but the fact is, Horatio, we all do. Your team needs you to be able to put those issues either to rest for good or to be able to come in and be our Lieutenant and function around them. I've had issues with my dad, Eric has a bullet in his brain and is on medication and is still in therapy for it, Ryan is struggling with being rehired and people not trusting him, Natalia is beginning to shine as a new CSI, but other, more senior techs are still giving her a hard time and treating her badly when all she wants to do is good. Have you even noticed any of that?”

 

Horatio looked down, realizing that she was right and very justified in her dressing him down. “No, you're right, Calleigh. I never noticed any of it and I should have. Maybe it's time for me to take a short vacation and settle my personal business. I'll wait until you can be back in the field before I put in for one, that is, if you don't mind taking care of the Lab for me.”

 

His voice was so soft and contrite that she began to feel bad about being so harsh with him. “Hey, sometimes life gets in the way, you know? You've had a lot dumped on you from Marisol's death to nearly losing Eric, finding out about your son, having his mother suddenly reappear and reclaim him and her boyfriend is not the most savory of characters. But I stand by what I've said. Better from me than Stetler.” She paused as something dawned on her. “Stetler; he's going to investigate, you know. He's going to know it wasn't just stomach flu and I broke down on the scene once we got Morales.”

 

“I'll take care of it. It's what I should be doing,” Horatio said, meeting her gaze. “I need to step back up and be part of the Lab again and this is my first act in doing so. I'll run interference for you as far as I can.”

 

Calleigh smiled at him, knowing her point had been made and that things would, hopefully, return to normal. “Thanks, Horatio.” 

 

 

 

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	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, folks! Thanks for reading. There will be something new up in the next day or so.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!

_**Chapter 10** _

  
  


  
  


  
  


Calleigh looked up from the book she was reading just as Eric entered her hospital room. She smiled brightly at him, glad for his company. She closed her book and flipped it onto the nightstand. "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?" Eric asked, looking her over very carefully. She looked markedly better to him than she had in the last several days. Placing the bag he held on the floor, he pulled a chair up and sat down.

"My knee hurts a little, but I'm okay."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said firmly. "But that can wait."

Calleigh frowned at him. "Why?"

"Because you stood me up last night. We had a dinner date for Pat's and you had to go and get yourself shot," Eric teased. "So, I thought since hospital food can be unappetizing, I'd cater in a little dinner so we could keep our date."

"Eric, you didn't-"

"Yes I did," he said softly, pulling two styrofoam containers out of the bag and two soft drink cans out of his jacket pockets. "I hope I got the toppings right."

Calleigh opened her container to find a cheeseburger with everything she liked on it. "It's perfect, Eric; thank you. I'm starving."

Eric grinned at her, opening his own box. "Serious talk is for later, after we eat. You said that you'd tell me all about the school. So....tell me."

She took a bite and then began her tale, regaling him with stories from just her one day enough to make him tear with laughter, holding his sides. By the time they were finished eating, she had him wishing that he could have shared her bodyguard duty just to see and hear all the fun firsthand. He imagined that she'd had to have had to been chewing the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing all while trying to be serious and do her job. It must have been sheer torture.

Eric cleared away the food containers and sat back down. "Talk to me. I'm not going to ask for an explanation. I just want you to talk to me. You always tell me that I can tell you anything. That street goes both ways, Querida."

At first she couldn't look him in the eyes. "You deserve and explanation," she began quietly. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I think I can talk about it with you now. I've already spoken with Rebecca about it; we talked for several hours last night, and I'll be seeing her regularly until the issue is resolved."

Eric nodded. "Good. Calleigh, I am not going to lie to you; you scared all of us. I know you never meant to, and I definitely don't want to add to the issue; but you did. Horatio, and Ryan almost went into a panic when they heard you were shot; they calmed down when they found out it wasn't life-threatening, but it wasn't a pretty sight. Alexx called me, concerned over your emotional state and Natalia was in knots of worry. Querida, you have to talk to us." He sighed and continued. "I know I'm guilty of it, myself; we think we can handle it all on our own, but sometimes we can't, can we?"

Calleigh hung her head. "No; we can't. I'm so sorry; tell them I'm sorry - that I didn't mean it." She struggled to get her voice back under control so she could talk.

She closed her eyes, thinking. "Nothing has ever gotten to me that badly. I've processed worse crime scenes; more blood, more bodies, worse smell; they've never gotten to me. I think t was the teddy bear; the one that was still clutched in the little girl's arms? Such an innocent plaything," she broke off, taking a deep breath and then continuing, "Teddy bears are meant to be held when you're sad or scared; meant for comfort. How tight did she hold that bear as her teacher and classmates were gunned down? How tight did she hold it when she was shot? Did it give her comfort when she died? Eric, it was the senseless loss of all that innocence and promise; lost for no reason at all. So a guy can't deal with being dumped by his girlfriend? What kind of an excuse is that to go into a classroom of five year olds and kill everyone in sight? It was just too much; I felt sick to my stomach, so sick that I couldn't do my job." She stopped, blinking back tears. "I realize now that I should have taken your offer and backed off; it would have saved me a whole lot of pain. But I thought I could tough it out, I didn't know doing that would make everything worse."

For the first time since she began speaking, she looked Eric in the eyes, treasuring the compassion shining in them; allowing herself the luxury of bathing herself in that compassion. She drank in as much as she wanted; as she needed. "I did have nightmares; for the life of me I can't tell you what they were because I truly don't remember them. All I remember is that they were violent and terrifying and that I would wake up screaming. I was frightened to sleep because the dreams would be right there. So, I didn't sleep; I researched, distracting myself from what was bothering me; shoving it away for later."

A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away. "The not sleeping, it got to me; lights were too bright, sounds were too loud and I didn't want to be touched – that's why I startled so badly yesterday morning. If my mind wasn't occupied by something challenging; I would get sudden, graphic flashes of the crime scene …" She broke off, wiping her tearing eyes. She sniffled. _You've come this far; don't back out now …_

Eric felt as if his heart would break at any moment watching Calleigh go through describing her private hell. He reached over and took her hand, cradling it in his own. "Calleigh, I know this is hard for you. Go only as far as you can. We can talk later if it's too painful right now," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. He rose and sat on the bed, careful not to jostle her knee on it's perch. He scooted closer to her until they sat hip to hip.

Calleigh shook her head decisively. "No, I have to finish; I can do this. The crime scene flashes were a lot like the photos I took, only they were totally sensory. Then the fire drill this afternoon and Morales….He had Johnny and if you hadn't distracted him when you did it could have all ended so differently." She ducked her head, beginning to cry in earnest.

Eric placed a gentle finger under her chin and raised her head so she could look him in the eyes. "Don't do that. No 'could haves' no 'might have beens', just what happened and only that. Otherwise you get trapped; and that's no way to live."

Calleigh nodded and continued. "Alright. I think it all came to a head when I saw the blood on Johnny. I thought it was his and he'd been hit; another victim of senseless violence. But then he was fine and the blood belonged to me. Something just cracked open and I could finally see what had been happening inside of myself. When I broke down there, I was angry or afraid. It wasn't the pain of the gunshot would. I was relieved."

Eric wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Is that what these are?"

Feeling the gentleness with which Eric treated her knocked down her last bit of resolve and she broke down yet again. Eric gathered her into his arms, cradling her head to his chest and let her spend herself out. Unlike the nearly frenzied sobs from the day before, these were almost relaxed, soft, releasing. He rocked her, making soothing sounds until she calmed.

"Do you know that's the third time that I've cried since yesterday? I don't cry that much in a year," Calleigh whispered, choosing to still remain in his comforting embrace. She snuggled in deeper.

He laid his cheek on top of her head. "Do you feel better afterward?"

He felt her give a small laugh. "Yeah, I do."

Then maybe you ought to more often." He hugged her a little tighter and felt her melt into him. "Calleigh, you really scared me. I could see that something terrible was going on inside of you and every time I tried to get close, you ran the other way. I thought that after how far you opened up to me after your abduction that you'd say something. Cal, you mean the world to me; do you know that? When you hurt, I hurt."

Calleigh sniffled. "Four."

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Calleigh sat up in her hospital bed, laptop perched on the rolling table/tray, notebooks and reference materials scattered around her. She typed quickly; piling the used and the footnoted materials on one  
side, the discarded and unused on the other. She was nearly finished with her thesis and was secretly glad of it. It had been far easier than she thought it would be. Calleigh was used to writing papers and  
presenting them as well as her occasional lectures and classes both at the University and at the Police Academy. This one just carried the possibility of a degree, even an honorary one, behind it and that's what made the writing a little stressful.

The door opened and Robyn poked her head in. "Am I disturbing you?" she asked.

"Not at all; I was just writing my conclusion." Calleigh said, waving her in. "Give me a minute to finish."

Robyn entered and sat in the lone chair in the room; waiting patiently until Calleigh stopped typing. With a satisfied smile, Calleigh held out her laptop. "Ready to print." she said. "I've highlighted the file; I can't thank you enough for doing this for me. I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure; you've earned it." Robyn took the laptop. "I have even better news for you. Under the circumstances of your wounding in the line of duty, the department has decided to waive the  
interview; your paper is the only thing that they want."

Calleigh was stunned. She had expected to leap through several more hoops. "Really; that's not what I thought. Are you absolutely sure?"

"I just came from the department chair's office. He said that if you were as half a prodigy as I said, then your written word was all he needed. When Dr. Cook says something, he means it." Robyn grinned  
at her. "I bragged about you;I'll admit it. I can't help being pleased that I was the one to teach you."

"Oh come on; that's enough! I'm not Einstein. Will you please stop already? This ego stroking could become addictive!" Calleigh laughed.

"Okay, okay; I'm done." Robyn said with a chuckle. "It'll take about a week or so for a decision to be reached. Everyone that sits on the board has to read it and make their own judgments." Seeing that  
Calleigh was looking a little tired, she turned toward the door. "I won't disturb your recuperation any longer; I just want to know when they'll be releasing you."

"Hopefully tomorrow if my P.T. is happy; time off for good behavior." Calleigh said, beginning to clear the research materials of the bed. Robyn helped her by putting them on the chair. "I still won't be able to return to work until I'm able to walk and stand on my own without pain, but I have things to occupy me. The guys have become a lending library of every novel I've wanted to read and every movie I've missed; they've even set up a visiting schedule in the evenings so I won't get bored and they can keep me current with the investigations. They also know that a bored Calleigh is a Calleigh that can get herself into trouble. Eric comes by every day for lunch and Alexx is busy stockpiling dinners for me."

Robyn shook her head in awe. "They really care about you. It's wonderful to see such and unembarrassed outpouring of affection; not all work environments are like that."

Calleigh smiled slightly, warmly. "The team is just like that. It always has been. When one of us is celebrating even the tiniest thing, we all bask in the joy. When one of us is hurting, we all do and all work to heal our - troubled one." Her voice broke slightly, remembering her and Eric's conversation and how badly she had alarmed everyone. She recovered quickly, clearing her throat. "We see the worst of humanity every day; it's the nature of our job. So, to counter that, we lavish the best of humanity on each other. It keeps us sane, caring people able to cope with the world. I wouldn't even want to consider the alternative."

Robyn walked to the door. "I'll let you rest. You look tired and you've already done enough work for one day; get some sleep."

Eric and Ryan both sat in Calleigh's living room; laughing at the movie that they had inflicted on their hostess- whom, for her part, was laughing just as hard. She was very content at the moment. She missed the team; she missed the work, she was even beginning to get antsy to get back to processing grizzly crime scenes- all of which was a positive sign that her daily sessions with Rebecca were going well.

During those sessions, Calleigh refused to hold anything back and entered each session with her usual determination and tenacity. Despite that, not everything came out easily. Some things had to be coaxed to the front; sometimes over several sessions, usually accompanied by tears. But, after two solid weeks of daily sessions, Calleigh felt stronger and more like her old self. She knew she wasn't at 100% just yet and there would be more therapy to go through, more coping skills to master, so that the likelihood of a reoccurrence would be at the minimum. For now, surrounded by her friends, she felt safe, happy and much loved.

The doorbell rang. "Can somebody get that please? Natalia and I are a bit busy." Alexx called from the kitchen. "Our hands are full of flour."

Ryan slid off the couch, gently easing out from under Calleigh's feet. "I got it!" he called.

"Hey man, be careful," Eric said, "We just got her back in one piece."

Ryan smacked him in the shoulder as he passed by. He trotted to the door and opened it. On the doorstep stood a smiling Horatio escorting a short auburn haired woman the Ryan didn't recognize. "Hey, H."

"Ryan Wolfe, this is Dr. Robyn Mix from the University." Horatio introduced, stepping inside.

Ryan shook her hand. "You're the one that tutored Calleigh, right? It's nice to meet you."

"Same here." Robin smiled at the younger man.

Horatio led the way into the living room and took the scene in. Ryan sat back on the couch along with Eric and Calleigh. Calleigh was seated sideways, pillowed against Eric's chest, his arm lazed across her midsection, legs propped across Ryan's lap. Eric sat with his feet propped up on Calleigh's coffee table. Their laughter was warm and easy and Horatio smiled at them.

Robyn looked at Horatio and couldn't help smiling, herself. "They really are a family, aren't they?"

"We are," Horatio said, stepping up behind Calleigh and placed his hands on her shoulders.

She tilted her head up to look at him, "Hey Horatio."

"Hey there, yourself; how are you doing?" he asked pointedly.

She smiled up at him, eyes shining with their old gleam, "Good; really good - you know what I mean."

"I do." He raised his voice so that he could be heard over the ending credits of the movie. "Alexx, Natalia, could you come in here, please?"

"Horatio, we're a little busy right now," Alexx called from the kitchen.

"It is time sensitive?" he called, "This is rather important."

"This had better be good," Alexx said, entering, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was followed closely by Natalia, also wiping her hands. A streak of flour colored her cheek. "If you cause me to burn those biscuits, you'll be making the next batch."

"I assure you this is good and I promise to slave over another batch." Horatio said as Eric turned of the T.V.

Eric turned slightly to look at him. "What's up, H?"

"Why don't I let Professor Mix tell you? She's the one that's trained Calleigh." Horatio said, stepping aside so that Robyn could get through.

"Like Lt. Caine said, I've been the one that's had the pleasure of teaching Calleigh, and I have to admit that I didn't expect to get much beyond the basics with her at first." Robyn said, walking to stand in front of the group. "But I was pleasantly surprised; more than that, Calleigh drank in the information and processed and internalized it as fast as I could give it to her. We got through the basics in about an hour; we got through all the undergraduate Behavioral Psych. classes by the end of the first day. I pushed her harder the next day and she didn't disappoint me in the slightest. We made it through most of the post graduate studies by the time that Lt. Caine got the call from the school I went along and witnessed Calleigh putting into practical use all the information that she had learned. I can't tell you how remarkable that is; especially given the small amount of time she'd had to learn everything. When I went to retrieve my things from your crime lab, I happened to look at Calleigh's notes and found them to be impressive in their insight and thoroughness. While Calleigh was in the hospital, we spoke on the matter and she kindly typed her notes in the form of a paper on the subject and I brought it to my department head. The decision came through yesterday and I phoned Lt. Caine. That's why he arranged this little celebration; I have been made to understand that your team shares just about everything, so I thought that you all need to share in this."

"What are you talking about?" Natalia asked, coming to sit on the back of the couch.

Robyn looked Calleigh square in the eye. "I wanted to present you with your Honorary Master's degree in Behavioral Psychology in the area of the Autism Spectrum Disorder." She handed Calleigh a leather-bound diploma. "Congratulations, Calleigh; you've earned it the hard way."

Calleigh opened the cover and let her eyes wander over the writing. Her fingers traced the words lovingly. "Thank you for everything, Robyn. I don't know what to say; I really don't. Thank you for being such an amazing teacher; I've learned so much from you, you've opened up a whole other world for me and I'm better for it. I promise you, this knowledge will not go to waste." She looked around at her friends whom were beaming at her. "I know I need to thank y'all, too," her drawl deepening with emotion. "For supporting me and understanding that I needed to do what I was doing and never giving me grief over it. Y'all are amazing."

"For someone who didn't know what to say, that was pretty eloquent," Alexx said, coming around to Calleigh's side of the couch and hugging her. "Congratulations honey."

One by one the team took turns hugging her and offering her their good wishes. The last one left was Horatio. He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. "I'm so proud of you and not just for the degree; you understand me?" He pulled her into an embrace that was fierce in its intensity while the team shared confused glances of "What the Hell?" They all knew that Calleigh had gone through something; but none of them, save Eric, knew what it had been. Neither he nor Calleigh would talk about it just yet, if they ever would.

"Ahem." Alexx broke the silence and the embrace. "No wonder you said this was a celebration dinner and asked Natalia and I to cook, Horatio. It's time to eat; so if everyone will move this love fest to the table, we can start." She turned to the professor. "You are planning on staying, right?"

"If I'm welcome," Robyn said, unwilling to intrude on this tight-knit group of people.

Calleigh smiled brilliantly at her. "You know you are."

"Then that's that." Alexx said, "Everyone to the table."

The guys rose, Ryan carefully swinging Calleigh's legs over the side of the couch. "Are you okay on your own or would you like a hand?"

"I can go short distances and the table isn't all that far," she said, unconsciously fiddling with her bandage.

"Are you sure?" Ryan asked again, knowing Calleigh's stubborn streak.

"Go on, I'll be fine," Calleigh laughed, giving him a little push.

"Need a hand up?" Eric asked, hands outstretched, "I'm just being a gentleman."

She placed her hands in his. "Then I accept." She winced slightly as she rose, the tightness of the newly healing wound giving a sharp tug. He curled her arm around his. Eric looked down affectionately at her. "If it gets too hard or becomes too painful, I want you to lean on me."

"Again; you know that this is starting to become a habit?" Calleigh replied as they slowly walked to the table already groaning with the weight of Alexx's and Natalia's culinary talents.

Eric held out a chair for her. "Not one that I'm willing to break, Querida."

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Calleigh pulled up to the large red brick building and exited her car. She leaned against the side of the vehicle for a moment and regarded the structure, reading out loud the words over the main entrance. "Atwood Institute." She walked across the street and entered, heading immediately to the reception desk.

"Good morning. May I help you?" the pretty blonde at the desk said.

"I called yesterday about volunteering with the kids? My name is Calleigh Duquesne."

The blonde looked up the appointment. "I'll ring Dr. Peterson; can I ask if you have any experience with autistic children?"

Calleigh smiled at her. "I've taken some classes from U of M in ASD."

"Then we can certainly use you," the blonde, named "Anna" replied as she rang the institute head. "Welcome to the Atwood Institute for Autistic Individuals."


End file.
